


seemingly impossible (but not untrue)

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Series: Olicity AU Series [14]
Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness, Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alchemy, Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Ashmole 782, Based on ADOW, Bodleian Libraries, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Killing of animals for food, Magic, Magic and Science, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Modern Setting, Mystery, Oxford University - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Technically enemies to lovers, Tension, Vampire Oliver Queen, Witch Felicity Smoak, Witchcraft, Witches, manuscripts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 147,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: Genius historian Dr Felicity Smoak unknowingly and accidentally calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript within the Oxford Bodleian Libraries - a book that has been lost for centuries.Felicity wants nothing to do with magic, despite her heritage and unruly, powerful abilities. But her discovery of Ashmole 782 sets the world of creatures stirring.With a mystery afoot and new, dangerous magical abilities manifesting for her to navigate, she is approached by the enigmatic vampire biochemist Professor Oliver Queen, who seems to have a deep interest in both the manuscript… and her.Based onA Discovery of Witchesby Deborah Harkness.(No knowledge of ADOW or background is needed for you to read this fic!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I recently re-read A Discovery of Witches when the TV show on Sky started up and couldn't resist writing it into a Olicity fic. The Diana and Matthew relationship utterly intrigues me and reminded me so much of Oliver and Felicity's dynamic.
> 
> This is based on the ADOW book, but I'll be taking some creative liberties. Sometimes combining some things from the book and the show, sometimes changing some scenes and characters. So if you haven't ever read the books, or watched the TV show, that's totally okay and you can still read this! You don't really need much background knowledge, as you will learn along with Felicity how the world of creatures works.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This first chapter is a prologue, but make sure you read the first chapter which will be posted immediately after!

****

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

Nothing good came of becoming involved with the impossible; Felicity Smoak had first-hand experience of that. Her magical heritage and the fact that she was a witch meant that she was well-versed with the impossible at this point in her life, which was probably why she thought that nothing good came of being a witch.

She’d rejected her powers and abilities for most of her life, ever since her parents, Donna Smoak and Noah Kuttler, had been murdered in Nigeria when she was seven. She’d attempted to distance herself from the world of the creatures, acknowledging and accepting the existence of witches, vampires, and daemons, but never purposely engaging with any part of the supernatural community.

Occasionally, Felicity’s magic slipped out; she’d never managed to get control over it due to avoiding practicing, and so her powers reacted to her instincts now more than anything else. An anxiety disorder she had, as well as a condition where she produced excess adrenalin, made that particularly tricky to deal with sometimes. But for the most part, she was excellent at pretending to be human.

Turning away from witchcraft, Felicity had fascinated herself with the study of historical science, writing two award-winning books, gaining a doctorate and being awarded tenure at Yale. The small coven who had taken her in, which now only consisted of two married witches by the name of Nyssa Raatko and Sara Lance, who had been her best friends when she was a child, would have preferred her to devote her life to the magic arts of enchantments and spellcasting, but they were still supportive of her. Although technology and computer science interested Felicity, it was alchemy, the ancient study of transmutation of chemical matter, that she was drawn to. 

It was as she was conducting research about alchemy in the seventeenth century influencing modern science for one of her latest papers, in the Bodleian Libraries at Oxford University, that Felicity unknowingly, and very much accidentally, cast herself back into the world of magic, into an age-old enigma… unwittingly placing herself in significant danger.

Ashmole 782.

Well, how was she to know when she called up the archaic manuscript that it had been missing for hundreds of years? How was she to know that its reappearance, and more importantly her role in the book’s discovery, would result in the chaos that followed?

The moment Felicity had touched on the cover of the book that for some strange reason, refused to open for her at first, she’d known it was bewitched. And yet, like the curious idiot she was, she’d closed her eyes and silently asked it to open - not realizing at all that what she might be doing was using magic - and the manuscript had seemingly relaxed, and _sighed_ , beneath her hand.

That should have warned her off reading the book immediately. Of course... Felicity couldn’t resist.

She’d started making notes about three folios being removed, and describing the first alchemical illustration she came across. It was as she noticed with a flicker of surprise that the manuscript was a palimpsest - writings had been hidden with some sort of invisible ink, although due to the magical nature of the book, more likely a spell - that a heavy density had settled over the room. The lights had begun to flicker ominously as a gentle, but biting cold breeze swirled around her feet. The ground seemed to start trembling and Felicity had stared in horror and shock as the words of the manuscript writhed and rose of the pages, snaking onto the palms of her hands.

She’d snapped the book shut with a shuddering breath, ever aware that while the Libraries were not busy today, there were still humans around, and any magic at all would make them uneasy. Despite the book being closed, Felicity could still feel the power thrumming underneath that leather cover. Nyssa and Sara’s reminders about how she should keep a hold of any bewitched items to study them further rang in her head, but Felicity had wanted nothing more than to be rid of the manuscript as quickly as possible. She wanted nothing to do with magic. By opening Ashmole 782, she’d breached that promise she’d made to herself, to maintain a wall separating her magic and her studies.

She’d finished up for the day and handed Ashmole 782 back to Curtis, the librarian currently manning the front desk, to be taken back down into the bowels of the Libraries with the rest of the manuscripts she’d been making notes on.

That was the beginning. Felicity’d had no idea at the time.

The next day she met Oliver Queen.

He was the one who caused her to realize that the normal life she’d been so desperately searching for her whole life was crumbling to ashes. Because while Felicity Smoak was a witch... Oliver Queen was a vampire; a vampire concerned with the Ashmole manuscript. A book that many witches, vampires, and daemons had been looking for, for a very long time. A book he’d personally been searching for, for centuries, but Felicity had somehow found by simply calling it up one September afternoon. There was a mystery afoot. She and Ashmole 782 were at the crux of it.

Nothing good came of becoming involved with the impossible… now Felicity had no choice but to delve into the dark shadows that enveloped it.

* * *

_It begins with absence and desire._  
_It begins with blood and fear._  
_It begins with a discovery of witches._


	2. Chapter 1

Frigid pressure and the feeling of lips against the base of her neck, signifying the watchful, beady gazes of vampires and daemons boring into her back, caused a shiver to rush down Felicity’s spine.

She’d arrived early this morning at the Bodleian Libraries after a run along the canal, to resume her research. Oxford was reasonably dreary this morning, the thick cloud cover blocking out vital rays of sunlight needed to warm the ground; a bitter breeze coming up from the Thames river had resulted in a crisp, fresh sunrise.

Felicity had called up the same manuscripts as yesterday - although not Ashmole 782. Her magic had felt odd, almost chilled and much more unruly inside her than usual, since she’d interacted with the book. After what had happened yesterday, she had no intention of reading 782 again anytime soon. Felicity immediately knew she’d made the correct choice not to request it when she realized how many other creatures were populating the Libraries today. There were far more than normal, and she was slightly glad that it was a week or so before the semester started for undergraduates at the University, otherwise there would be more humans present to notice them.

The creatures were watching her. It wasn’t obvious at first, but she could sense they were looking at her; the ice prickles and sensation of having kisses pressed to her skin were how she discerned the vampires and daemons observing her. There were witches in the Libraries as well and Felicity could also feel their gazes settled on her, but that just gave her an uncomfortable feeling instead.

One of the witches, Alena, was Felicity’s friend. They’d met when Felicity had been studying in Oxford before. Almost every day, she tried to convince the historian to join her coven’s meetings. She didn’t fully understand Felicity’s uncertainty when it came to witchcraft, but respected her wishes to stay distant from the supernatural world. Today, even Alena was acting strangely. She had been present in another part of the Libraries when Felicity had opened Ashmole 782, so perhaps she’d sensed the magic outburst and suspected that Felicity was losing control of her powers, and wanted to keep an eye on her.

Felicity remained in her usual seat of A4 all morning and then all afternoon, trying to ignore the creatures as much as possible. They all began leaving as the clock tower struck five pm outside, the bells ringing and echoing across the courtyard. Most of them would probably be heading to their colleges for a free glass of whiskey before dinner, and with the Wiccan holiday of Mabon tonight, they would be preparing for that as well. Felicity finally felt able to relax when she found herself alone.

Heading up to the gallery up a rickety spiral staircase, Felicity searched for a periodical called _Notes and Queries_ upon the shelves, which she needed to check a couple of her notes. She sighed in annoyance when she finally located it. On the very top shelf. She looked down at herself, slightly irritated about how short she was and how that meant she couldn’t reach it, at least not without the step-stool, which was nowhere in sight. Felicity jumped in place when she thought she heard a faint laugh of amusement at her predicament, but since nobody else was in the Libraries, put it down to her own subconscious chuckling at her.

Reaching up onto her tip-toes, Felicity desperately tried to grasp at the book, despite knowing that it was out of her reach. Narrowing her eyes, she focused on attempting to grab hold of the spine with her fingertips. She needed this book and she _would_ get it.

Her index finger brushed the bottom of _Notes and Queries_ ’ spine at the same time a spark of magic lit inside of her, and instantly, the book flew off the shelf. She was planning on using a little power to nudge it towards her, not yank it out with that much force! Felicity yelped and ducked when it shot over her head at such a speed that it would have been ridiculous to try and catch it. She wheeled around in panic when the periodical sailed over the gallery’s balcony. Wincing in preparation of a loud thump as the book made an impact with the floor below, Felicity blinked in surprise when no sound came.

The book had been caught. A man - no, a _vampire_ \- peered up at her with cold blue eyes, _Notes and Queries_ safely held within one arm as he ran his other slender hand through his short sandy blond hair. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a slim form. Handsome did not even begin to describe him. The way in which the vampire stood silently told Felicity that he was a quiet, deadly predator, one not to be trifled with or underestimated, for if he decided to hunt, the kill would be effortless for him. Although dressed in jeans, a soft grey Henley and a black peacoat, the vampire still appeared as elegant as he would be if he were wearing a suit and tie. A fierce intelligence radiated from him across the room, as well as a sense of pure strength.

Nausea blossomed within Felicity’s gut as her anxiety rose, adrenalin levels rising. She locked eyes with the vampire, staring into those piercing cobalt eyes as she froze, even though her instincts were screaming at her to run. She felt like an antelope being stalked by a lion.

“You dropped your book,” he said, his voice silky smooth and emotionless. His accent sounded Oxbridge, but there was a slight Canadian lilt to it. His tone suggested that he knew Felicity had not dropped the manuscript, and it had fallen by other means. He’d seen her using magic. Raising an eyebrow, the vampire held the book out. An offering.

Felicity forced herself to move, slowly descending the staircase and approaching him warily. Her fingers shook only slightly, twitching when they briefly grazed against the vampire’s as he took the book from him. As he handed it over, he dipped down with a small bow. She hugged it to her chest protectively. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

“Perhaps be more careful when you’re fetching it from the shelf next time, hmm?” He smiled. “We wouldn’t want a book like that to get damaged.” Felicity could barely suppress her flinch. Vampires didn’t have fangs at all, but their teeth were still weapons which they used to bite into flesh.

The mere idea of those teeth getting anywhere near her caused her knees to buckle beneath her, the adrenaline making her dizzy. But as she fell, the vampire swooped down and wrapped his hands around her arms, keeping her upright. Felicity’s head fell onto his shoulder just before he pushed her back and away from him, and she frowned at the scent of cedar wood, sea salt and something remarkably similar to roasted cacao that he was emitting.

“Are you all right, Dr Smoak?” He asked her worriedly. He ran his eyes up and down her scrutinizingly, but it was only once he inhaled, sniffing at her, that he lowered his gaze. “I apologize for startling you.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, slightly breathless and all too eager to place a couple feet of distance between them. Felicity frowned as she mulled over what he’d just said, clutching the book tighter to her chest. “You know who I am.”

He inclined his head, his eyes never leaving her face. Felicity found herself unable to look away, their pull irresistible. “Yes. I admire your work. Your article on alchemical transformation color symbolism was intriguing and your study on Robert Boyle’s approach to contraction and expansion was… quite compelling.” She gaped at him, eyes wide. He wasn’t lying. He’s actually read her papers. “I haven’t finished reading your latest book on alchemical apprenticeship and education yet, but please know I have been very much enjoying it.”

Felicity nodded, speechless. The urge to run was gone, only due to the fact that she knew there was no chance she could outrun a vampire. Curtis was nowhere to be seen, so he couldn’t come to her rescue. Her only option was to stand her ground.

“Oliver Queen,” the vampire introduced himself, plucking a green and white business card from his coat pocket and extending it to her.

Felicity stared down at the Oxford University logo and Queen’s name, that was followed by a long string of initials indicating that he was a member of the Royal Society of Chemistry. The card also stated that he was a professor of biochemistry, affiliated with Neuroscience at the John Radcliffe Hospital, and there were several different phone numbers from various laboratories and offices at the bottom. It said his specialization was genetics, pathology, and hematology. Of course, it made sense for a vampire to be working in hematology - he probably couldn’t resist the call of studying blood sciences. For a man who appeared to be in his early thirties, Queen had certainly achieved a lot in his lifetime already - although Felicity suspected that his real age was at least five times that. Vampires were immortal, after all.

“Professor Queen,” she acknowledged, finally glancing up from the card as she tucked it away in her coat. “We haven’t met before.”

His lips ticked up into a smile. “No, we haven’t,” he replied. “Not for lack of trying on my part, I assure you. I attended your lecture the other day on analyzing nineteenth-century grimoires and their connection to the scientific arts, and while I would have liked to stay behind to ask a couple of questions, you seemed occupied at the time. You have a very remarkable way of evoking the past with your words.” And he would know - he’d lived the past. Queen paused. “Would you perhaps join me for dinner tonight?”

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat. _Dinner_. With a vampire. She caught his unnatural, too bright, too blue eyes flickering down to her throat and that instinct to escape kicked in once again. There was absolutely no way she was going to dine with Queen, especially considering vampires’ usual dietary preferences.

“I’m sorry,” she responded, trying to stop her voice from wavering. “But I have plans this evening.”

“Mabon, I presume,” he nodded, referring to the Wiccan holiday. There was the beginning of a smirk on his face and Felicity swallowed. She wondered how long he’d been in the Libraries today - how long he’d been hovering around her without being noticed. He knew she was a witch, that was for certain, but if he’d been watching her, he knew she wasn’t celebrating - she hadn’t left the Libraries with the other witches, as she didn’t have a coven to celebrate with. “Too bad. Another time, maybe.”

“Maybe,” she echoed.

“How long are you in Oxford for?”

Cautious of giving away too much, Felicity tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear nervously. Being around this vampire was disconcerting and she was afraid her voice might fail her. “The year. Until I finish my current paper, I think.”

“Then I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” Queen said, his gaze intense. Felicity tried to remember if he had blinked at all during their conversation. With the exception of that fleeting glance down at her throat, the vampire’s eyes had not strayed from hers as they’d spoken. “Oxford is a small city and with both of us working here at the university, we’re bound to cross paths once more.”

“I suppose so,” she murmured.

Queen reached his hand out, waiting for her to clasp it before he shook it, exerting a brief, firm pressure, that along with the shock of the coldness of his fingers, knocked the breath out of Felicity’s lungs. Queen could easily crush her hand within his grasp if he wished to. But he withdrew without hurting her at all. “Delighted to have finally met you, Dr Smoak.”

Queen didn’t wait for her to respond. He shot that bone-chilling smile at her and then stepped backward and away, striding off into the shadows of the darkest, oldest part of the Libraries. Gone. As if the last five minutes had never happened.

“And a pleasure to meet you too, Professor Queen,” she said softly, to the empty room.

Vampires had enhanced senses so he could probably still hear her.

Felicity could barely move, even after the vampire had left. _Notes and Queries_ rested in her arms, but she was no longer interested in reading it. Shakily walking back to her desk, she slowly switched off her computer and gathered up the manuscripts she’d been studying, switching off the lamp. Her adrenalin was making her antsy and she knew there was no point in trying to work any longer, not when her blood was pumping and alarm bells were sounding in her brain, shouting at her to run.

After she’d returned the manuscripts and left the Libraries, Felicity walked back to New College. Her paranoia of Queen possibly following her caused her to look back every couple of seconds, gnawing on her lip anxiously. The feeling of two icy patches on her back only made her more distressed. She hurried back to her rooms at the top of the college’s faculty staircase, and only felt as if she could finally relax when she closed and locked her apartment door behind her.

Why had Oliver Queen been in the Libraries? He might have been a professor of the university, but she’d never seen him in the Bodleian before. She had no idea why a chemistry professor researching genetics would be reading in historical manuscripts.

Unless.

This had something to do with Ashmole 782.

All of the creatures at the Libraries today had been watching _her_. As if they knew what she’d done. As if they knew what had happened with that book yesterday. Maybe Queen was there, scoping out the place for the manuscript as well. But why would a vampire be interested in a bewitched alchemy book?

After eating some toast, drinking a cup of tea and slipping into bed, Felicity still found she was too shaken up to sleep. She would usually go out running when she had an excess of adrenalin like this, but she was too terrified to go outside, lest Queen be lying in wait for her, or some other creature who had been observing her.

Checking the time, she decided to call home. It was three pm in the afternoon in Madison, New York, so she wouldn’t be waking up Nyssa and Sara. She needed her old friends’ advice. Hearing their voices would comfort her.

“We’ve been waiting for you to call,” Sara said, the moment she answered the phone.

Felicity sighed, lying back in bed. “Sara, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she responded exasperatedly. “Nyssa got a vision of you stumbling around the woods, lost at night, and Canary has been acting skittish all morning. We haven’t been able to eat since breakfast.”

That stupid cat of theirs, Canary, always picked up whenever there was any tension within the circle. Although Canary hated Felicity with a passion, she would still always act up when she was in trouble of some kind. She decided immediately that she wouldn’t tell them about Ashmole 782. Not until she had a greater understanding of what had happened. “Sara, I promise you, I’m okay. I just had a bit of a rough day in the Libraries, that’s all.”

“Why aren’t you celebrating Mabon?” Nyssa demanded, obviously having taken the phone off her wife. She and Sara had been together and married for nearly five years now and although they were only slightly older than Felicity, they looked after her as if she was their daughter, not their friend who had joined their coven at age seven and grown up with them after her parents had been murdered. “You should be celebrating Mabon. Did Alena not invite you to join her coven?”

“She did, but I decided to work instead.” Felicity tried not to sound annoyed. Since she’d got tenured at Yale and moved to Oxford, Nyssa and Sara were expecting her to take up magical studies and start taking her powers seriously. “I spent the evening with Elias Ashmole rather than with witches.”

“Who’s he?” Sara demanded instantly. “Is he hot?”

“He’s dead,” Felicity laughed.

“What!?”

“Elias Ashmole was an alchemist and astrologer who donated his collection of historical science books and manuscripts to Oxford University when he died in 1692,” Nyssa informed her wife with a chuckle.

“Why can’t Felicity spend time with men who are alive rather than long dead?”

“Still here, you two,” Felicity rolled her eyes.

“So why did you have a rough day at the Libraries today?” Sara asked.

She frowned. Given that both Nyssa and Sara were witches, there was no point trying to lie or hide anything from him. She might as well tell them the truth, or at least most of it. “There were a lot of creatures in there,” Felicity mused. “A lot more than usual. It was… weird. And then I met a vampire, one who works at the university I’ve never seen before. Called Oliver Queen.”

There was silence for a moment and then Nyssa said sharply, “He’s not stalking you, is he? He’s not _hunting_ you?”

“No, I don’t think so. Or, I hope not.”

“You should stay away from him,” Sara advised. “Vampires are extremely dangerous, Felicity. Witches are not meant to mix with them. Humans are more likely to notice us when we do.”

“I have no reason to seek him out,” Felicity said. “We don’t have anything in common. He was just curious. Interested in my work. He’s a scientist, a biochemist who works in genetics, pathology, and hematology.”

“Why would he be interested in alchemy?”

“Well, alchemy is ancient chemistry,” she shrugged. “Maybe he’s fascinated by the history.”

“Maybe he’s fascinated by your blood.”

Felicity absentmindedly ran the toes of one of her sock-covered feet over her other leg’s calf. “Well, he did ask me to dinner.”

Nyssa snorted. “To _dinner_?”

“I can’t imagine there’s any food that would really appeal to a vampire,” Sara said. “Like I told you before - stay away from him.”

“I can’t imagine I would see him again. His business card says he’s busy running three labs and he holds two faculty positions. Doesn’t give him much time to come searching for me in the Libraries.”

“But the fact he searched for you at all suggests he wants something from you,” Sara argued, sounding impatient. “He asked you to dinner for a reason - unless he wanted to dine on you. You should set up some elementary precautions, Felicity, just in case. A simple protection spell around your rooms -”

“I’m not using magic,” Felicity cut in firmly. Her use of her powers to get the book off the shelf today had been disastrous - and accidental - and she had no intention of utilizing any sort of witchcraft purposefully.

“Then I can’t help you, if you can’t help yourself,” Sara huffed.

“She’s walking off,” Nyssa told her. “She’s irritated. She just worries about you, Felicity, and doesn’t understand why you won’t use your powers, not even to protect yourself. I have to go. Please be careful. Vampires are notoriously badly behaved around witches.”

Felicity smiled. “I’ll be careful, I swear. But you don’t have to worry. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

Nyssa didn’t respond.

“Nyssa?” she prompted, biting her lip.

“Time will tell.”

The cell phone rang off. Felicity placed it on her bedside counter and curled up underneath the blankets, wondering what Nyssa had meant by that. Nyssa was good at seeing the future, but her visions were not always clear, and she was always notoriously cryptic when talking about them. The historian knew it would not be an easy task convincing her to share a vague premonition.

But from what Nyssa had said, Felicity suspected that her meeting Oliver Queen in the Bodleian Libraries today would not be the last encounter she had with him. Especially if it was Ashmole 782 he was looking for. She didn’t know for certain yet whether that was the real reason he had approached and spoken to her, but she figured that she would find out soon enough.

A strange combination of dread and anticipation sunk into her gut.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support so far! I really appreciated all your comments and kind messages after the first chapter.
> 
> So I've decided I'm going to update this with shorter chapters, but more often than my other WIP fics. It's a little bit easier to write chapters as I'm basing them off the events of the book with some of the TV show scenes mixed in as well. Currently have a couple of chapters written, so I'm going to update as frequently as possible (that still means at least a week, two weeks, even up to three weeks between chapters. But you won't be waiting months).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Felicity awoke late the next morning, tired due to her slumber being restless in nature. She’d fallen unconscious reading over her grimoire notes last night, as she’d struggled to sleep due to her heightened anxiety over Ashmole 782, the creatures in the Libraries, and Oliver Queen. Her face was pale and black bags hung under her slightly blood-shot eyes as she peered at herself in the mirror. As she glanced around her bedroom in the reflection, she frowned, feeling as if something was out of place. Her stomach twisted, but Felicity squashed down her unease so she could brush her blonde hair and tie it back into a rough ponytail.

There wasn’t enough time to head down to the river for a quick row or even a run; she desperately needed an adrenaline release, as her magic was still pent-up after yesterday’s accident with the book, but it didn’t look as if she’d be able to exercise until the evening. Felicity downed a mug of scalding coffee and forced herself to swallow a couple of bites of a cereal bar as she hastily dressed in jeans and a white blouse. She felt slightly subconscious about how her neck was exposed, especially after Queen had stared at it yesterday, so she pulled on a black jacket with a turned-up collar over the top. Gathering her belongings she would need for another day researching in the Bodleian, she headed out of her rooms to walk through Oxford University campus.

Heading up to the third floor of Libraries after checking in, she carried her laptop, notes, and purse in her arms, planning on setting up in the Duke Humfrey Room’s Selden End. The familiar scents of old stone, worn paper and dust filled Felicity’s nose, relaxing her. She caught sight of Alena in the medieval wing and Felicity’s shoulders rose up to her ears when she felt the witch watching her walk past. Other daemons and witches were present today, dotted around the Libraries’ workspaces, roughly the same number there were yesterday, although strangely there were a lot fewer vampires.

None of them looked up, however, when Felicity weaved her way through the desks and chairs. Brief, cold waves and fleeting brushes against the back of her neck informed Felicity that once she passed them, their gazes flickered up to her for a couple of seconds, but none of the creatures were watching her intensely, which was an improvement on the previous day.

She paused at the collection desk with her manuscript request slips already filled out and prepared to be handed in. She hadn't requested Ashmole 782 today. She didn't think she ever would again. She never wanted to lose control over her magic again, like she did when she held that book. With so many creatures about, as well, it would be too risky and too dangerous to bring a bewitched manuscript into the mix.

Curtis was not in his usual seat at the front of the desk, and was instead talking hushedly to one of the Library supervisors.

“He wants to sit in the Selden End,” the supervisor whispered, sounding irritated. “His requests have already been put through - he’s waiting down there for them now.”

“These are his too,” Curtis sighed, patting the top of a large stack of books he’d just collected and placed down on the desk. “He asked for them to be brought up from the New Bodleian Reading Room.” That was where they kept all the books from Eastern Asia. Felicity didn’t know of anybody who used the Libraries frequently who read manuscripts from there… perhaps it was somebody from the visiting faculty.

The supervisor rolled his eyes. “Get those to him now and then we’ll try and bring his other books to him within the hour.”

“He might not be happy waiting that long.”

“If he wants the manuscripts, he’ll be patient.”

Curtis turned back to face Felicity as the supervisor stormed off into his office, obviously annoyed by the events that had already taken place this morning, despite the fact that the Bodleian had only been open for around twenty minutes. “Hi, Felicity,” he said sheepishly. He took her request forms, reading them over. “You want these and the manuscripts you put on reserve?”

“Yes, thank you,” she smiled.

Vanishing into the back room, where the reserved manuscripts were locked up safely overnight in a metal cage. Curtis returned huffing and puffing, a large number of books balanced in his arms. Felicity stifled her laugh as he almost tipped over from the weight of them. He wheeled over trolley to place the manuscripts on so he could help her take them over to her desk, appearing relieved that he didn’t have to carry them anymore.

“Oh, just to warn you,” he said, as they strode side by side towards the working areas, where Felicity always preferred to sit in the sunniest, southeastern corner. “You might not want to sit in A4 today. Some Professor Queen guy is sitting in A3 and... he’s scary.”

Felicity froze, eyes wide as she stared at Curtis and attempted to process what he’d just told her. “Did you just say Professor Queen?”

“Yeah, he’s a biochemist.”

“I know,” she said. Her panic must have been evident because Curtis’ brow furrowed in worry. “What’s he doing in the Bod? Doesn’t he have labs to run?”

“Apparently he wanted to read over the Needham papers,” Curtis told her. “He specifically asked to sit in A3, said he wanted decent light and lots of room to spread out.”

She could feel her magic begin to boil within her blood, anger flooding through her. “Joseph Needham?” she repeated, gritting her teeth. “You mean the historian of Chinese science?”

“Yeah… he was a biochemist, probably why Professor Queen’s interested in reading his work.” Curtis shifted nervously on his feet, shooting an exasperated glance over Felicity’s shoulder where Queen was obviously seated in his eye-line, as if he was displeased at how flustered she was becoming at the mention of Queen sitting in her usual space. “Would you like me to ask him to move?”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “It’s okay. Don’t do that, Curtis. Professor Queen has the right to work in the Libraries just as much as anybody else in here.”

He nodded hesitantly. “Well, do you want me to set you up in A1 or A6?”

“A6, please.” She shuddered at the idea of having to sit for an entire day next to Queen, or sit opposite him. The idea of working so close to a vampire was unsettling and Felicity could feel her agitation rising already, but at least A6 was diagonal to A3, and the furthest desk available from it. “I’ll just go set up now.”

“I’ll bring your manuscripts over,” Curtis replied, waving the slips.

Felicity squared her shoulders and held her breath as she walked over to the Selden End. Beams of dappled sunlight from the large windows fell onto Queen’s back where he was sitting; her gaze was immediately drawn to him, throat dry as she observed how he seemed to shimmer like a specter because of his pale skin and blond hair. He was wearing more formal clothes this time, dressed in dark grey trousers with a white shirt and a similarly grey blazer. Whatever he was reading, he looked enveloped in it, as if he hadn’t even noticed her approach. Felicity knew better - vampires had an excellent sense of hearing. Queen had most likely been able to hear her conversation with Curtis despite the fact they’d been whispering, and it had occurred at least thirty feet away.

As Felicity dumped her bag, laptop, and books down onto the desk marked A5, marking the edge of her territory, Queen’s dark eyes slid from the page he was reading to her face, showing no hint of surprise.

“Good morning, Dr Smoak,” he greeted her. He blinked at her slowly like a lazy big cat surveying a prey animal while she got comfortable in her hair.

Felicity averted her gaze slightly to the side and she dipped her head in a curt, respectful nod, not wanting to make direct eye contact with him. “Good morning, Professor Queen.”

The vampire flashed her a quick smile, those gleaming white teeth causing her to swallow. As Felicity continued to unpack her bag of her notepads, pen pot, and water bottle, her shoulders ached with cold, telling her that Queen was still watching her. It was only when she pushed her bag to the side and forcefully met his gaze, her eyes stony and conveying her irritation, that he ducked his head to resume his reading, appearing mildly chastised.

She wasn’t able to enjoy her triumph for long, however, as when she opened up her laptop, she found that it hadn’t charged overnight and had run out of battery. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, sliding out her seat to kneel down on the floor and plug her charger cord in under the desk. The awkward placement of the socket had the witch contorting her body and emitting a faint grunt of exertion. When she rose back to her feet, Queen still had his eyes fixed on his book but he was grinning in amusement. Rifling through her manuscripts furiously, Felicity mumbled, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over by the medieval section near the northern end?”

Queen instantly raised his head, his smile disappearing. “Would you like me to move?” he asked, voice quiet but utterly sincere. “Am I bothering you, Dr Smoak?”

“No, of course not,” she replied swiftly, flushing. “I’m just… surprised you like sitting in such direct sunlight.”

Quirking an eyebrow, he said, “Please don’t tell me you believe that awful misconception.”

“Well, you’re not going to burst into flames or explode in daylight, I know that. But I’ve never met… _somebody_ like you who particularly strived to bask in the sun’s glow, either.”

His eyes were back to piercing, pupils dilated. “And how much experience have you had with ‘somebody like me’?” he questioned lowly. He even sounded a little sarcastic.

Felicity wondered if it was that obvious she’d barely interacted with other creatures and had practically no involvement with the magical world. While she knew quite a lot about witches, having grown up in a coven, and had some basic knowledge of vampires and daemons, she was by no means an expert. Maybe Queen had some kind of preternatural sense, like telepathy, or precognition. It was rare for vampires to have that sort of ability, but it was not unheard of. It was usually witches and very occasionally daemons who dabbled in the magical powers department.

She didn’t have much experience with regular vampires at all, that was true. But she did not for one second think that Queen was a regular vampire. “For whatever reason, Professor Queen,” she said, voice soft and cautious, “I don’t think a decade of experience would have prepared me for meeting you. And I don’t think experience would tell me what I need to know about you either.”

He inclined his head and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “And what is it you wish to know about me?”

“What you want.”

He motioned both of his hands to the numerous books around him. “Currently? I want to read Needham’s papers about his concepts of morphogenesis.”

Felicity eyed him incredulously. “Morphogenesis? Really?”

“The changes to embryonic stem cells that lead to differentiation -”

“I know what morphogenesis is, thank you very much, Professor Queen,” she interrupted him sharply. “You know very well that’s not what I was asking.”

He smirked. “All right… let me take you to dinner and I’ll tell you what’s been on my mind.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Then I guess it will remain a mystery, won’t it?” He chuckled lowly. “In all honesty… I thought you might want some company. The Libraries are… busy, today. Quite a few other creatures.”

She shifted in her chair, gritting out, “Some of them normally work in here.”

“But not all of them. They’re here to watch you.”

“They’re only watching me because I’m talking with you.”

“Hmm.” His eyes dragged sideways to one of the library attendants, who was rolling a trolly loaded with books towards them. “My manuscripts are here.” He turned back to Felicity with one eyebrow raised one again. “I have work to do. I don’t want to keep you from yours.”

Cheeks red, Felicity forced herself to stare back down at her pile of work. Queen’s charm and enigma were infuriating. As he began speaking in a smooth, alluring voice to the attendant - who happened to be female - Felicity opened up her first manuscript with more vigor than was needed, beginning to read. Curtis brought her other books over, shooting Queen a suspicious look as he did so, but the witch left the pile untouched, continuing to attempt reading the same manuscript for the next two hours. She just ended up reading the same five pages over and over again - mostly because her attention was focused on keeping an eye on Queen. The vampire was getting through book after book with ease, finishing making notes about certain chapters of manuscripts every twenty minutes or so. Felicity envied how quickly and easily he was able to write his notes, and started becoming increasingly vexed at how this vampire was ruining her day of research. It got to the point where every rustle of a page he turned over set her on edge.

It was not just Queen who was distracting her, however, so Felicity couldn’t blame him entirely. The other creatures were unsettling her. It was said that every one in ten beings was a creature of some sorts, but there was at least a dozen of them, effortlessly outnumbering the human population in the Libraries.

As the morning went on, more and more creatures arrived - and all of them seemed to be fascinated with her. Felicity’s shoulders, back, and head itched as continuous ice spikes, kisses and uncomfortable pressure assaulted her. Stress at the back of her skull created a pounding in her head that was impossible to ignore and made it even harder to concentrate on reading.

The pressure gradually built until she was hit with a blinding headache, vision spinning. This was not just a witch watching her - this was someone threatening her, attempting to invade her mind. Felicity felt sick and tried to turn to the side to spot who exactly could be attacking her. There was a male witch with dark hair, menacing eyes and a deadly expression walking towards her. Once she noticed him, the throbbing in her brain worsened to the point where she was worried she might pass out any second.

She wouldn’t put up with this any longer. If she had to use her magic to get rid of this person trying to rip a hole in her mind, she would. Gripping the sides of the table with shaking hands, she projected, _GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD!_ in a ferocious scream, magical power boosting the impact. The pressure snapped, jolting back in astonishment.

Within seconds, Queen was standing behind her, stretching himself out like a shield as he rested one cold hand on her shoulder and the other on the surface of the desk. He’d moved so quickly that he’d been a blur in Felicity’s already hazy vision. The feel of his fingers tightening on her shoulder grounded her. Swallowing, she stared up into those mesmerizing blue eyes of his, which conveyed a sense of fierce protection.

“Are you okay?” he asked her quietly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, throat closing up. “I’m… fine.” Truthfully, she was confused why he, a vampire, would be defending her from another witch. Noticing how the few humans working in the Selden End were glancing over at them, craning their necks, Felicity shook her head. A stand-off between a vampire and two witches was not something they would be able to ignore. “You need to sit back down. The humans are staring.”

A purr of a growl bubbled from the back of Queen’s throat. “Not until he leaves.”

From behind them, the male witch who had been assaulting Felicity’s mind said, “Oh, I thought that this seat might be free. My mistake.” He retreated, backing off and taking the awful banging in her skull with him, until it completely disappeared. She turned her head to hastily glance over at the vampire, as he would know when the nasty witch was entirely gone from the building. It was only when Queen relaxed that she breathed out in relief.

Queen’s hand hadn’t strayed from where he’d placed it on Felicity’s shoulder. She wanted to yell at him to move it, but she also didn’t want to make a scene. He must have sensed her displeasure at being touched by him, as his hand slowly fell to hold onto the back of her chair instead. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” she responded shortly.

“Would you like me to walk you home? You’re very pale and your hands are trembling. Maybe it would be better for you to rest instead of work.”

She shot him a disbelieving look. She would like him to back off, sit back down and stop making a fuss over her - especially when he had no reason to remotely care about her. Gathering her composure, Felicity shook her head and said firmly, voice barely audible but she was certain he could hear her: “No. I refuse to be chased out of this library. I’m not going to leave - not because of some disrespectful witch, and not because of you.”

He stared at her, his face schooled into an impassive expression. The only tell that he was bothered by her words was the slight tightening of his mouth and cheeks as he suppressed a frown. Felicity pointedly flicked through the current manuscript she was examining, trying not be alarmed by how the vampire seemed to be leaning in to check her over at a disconcertingly close distance - so close that the strong aroma of roasted cacao, cedar wood and sea salt from his scent washed over her.

“Would you prefer for me to sit elsewhere?” he asked.

Felicity resisted the urge to hiss at him to clear off. Queen actually seemed worried about her. She had a feeling that even if she requested he go away, he wouldn’t go very far - he’d at least keep her in his sightline. If he was going to take it upon himself to act as her shield against other creatures with far less tact than him… “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she whispered. “And I doubt you would listen to me if I attempted to, anyway.”

Queen cocked his head sideways, curious at her words, but he pulled away and sat back down again at his own desk. Felicity kept her gaze focused on her book, pretending to be reading the pages, but it was hard to concentrate when there were permanent patches of ice spreading down her head, shoulders and sides from where the vampire was observing her. Eventually, Queen decided there was no need to watch the witch anymore and began leafing through his notes and manuscripts again.

By the time it reached mid-afternoon, Felicity was too exhausted to work anymore. Her encounter with the rude, invasive witch had left her with a bad headache verging on a migraine. Being surrounded by so many creatures who were doing a very terrible job of acting as if they weren’t spying on her nearly sent her into an anxiety meltdown. There was no point in staying in the Libraries anymore, not when she was feeling physically uncomfortable and couldn’t immerse herself in her research anymore.

Queen immediately looked up at her when Felicity began packing up her laptop and supplies, closing up her manuscript and placing it onto the pile Curtis had carried over, but she hadn’t even started on reading.

“Are you going home?” he asked her, his expression blank but blue eyes glinting.

“Yes, I am,” she retorted sharply. “And no, I don’t want an escort.”

The vampire didn’t react to her harsh tone. “All right,” he said softly. His eyes wandered past her and to the Libraries beyond. Whatever he saw caused his gaze to darken. “Just be careful.”

It was more of a warning than a threat. Felicity didn’t need to ask what the warning was about, or who he was glaring at - as soon as she’d risen from her seat, all of the dozens of creatures scattered around the area had twisted around to look at her, tracking her every move. She could sense that not all of them were as considerate off boundaries as Queen appeared to be.

Alena seemed to be balancing on the very edge of her chair, ready to run up to Felicity the moment that she was free from Queen’s arm length, but Felicity had no desire to talk to her. Alena never made any effort to hide her prejudices against other creatures and would likely have a lot of distasteful things to say about her sitting on the same table as a vampire. The presence of the nasty male witch from before was back as well, probing lightly at her mind but retreating hastily when she shoved up a barrier to stop him. 

For some reason, Felicity doubted that Queen was going to let her walk home alone, despite her telling him she didn’t want him chaperoning her. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

“Yes,” he answered. “I have a feeling you will be.”


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter xx Thank you once again for all your kind comments and messages of support. Hope you enjoy!

Felicity failed in her efforts to avoid any creatures as she powerwalked home to New College, as about five minutes into her journey, Alena hurried up beside her, the witch carrying a bunch of heavy books in her arms that Felicity did nothing to help her with.

“Felicity,” she called. “Felicity!”

There was no way to evade her now. Smiling reluctantly, she greeted the other witch, “Hi, Alena.”

Alena didn’t even make an attempt at small talk. “That was a vampire.”

Felicity sighed. “Yes, it was.”

“What was he doing in the Libraries?” Alena asked, looking worried.

“Er, I’m not exactly sure,” Felicity responded, trying to keep up a fast pace so that the other witch would struggle to keep up. “I don’t really know any more than you do.”

Alena shook her head. “But he was _talking_ to you.”

Pausing, Felicity turned to her and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he was reading some of Joseph Needham’s papers and recognized me, because he’d read my works. It isn’t a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Alena sniffed. “Vampires are dangerous and they notoriously hate witches.”

“He’ll probably be gone by tomorrow,” she said.

“I hope so.”

“Right, well, I’m heading back to my rooms to work,” Felicity said abruptly, wanting to get out of this situation before Alena started trying to pry more details about Queen out of her. “Goodbye.”

Alena didn’t attempt to rush after her when she crossed the street, abandoning the other witch on the pavement. Felicity kept her head on a swivel and magic below the surface just in case any other creature was following her. The fresh air and pure sunlight helped with her headache, but there was no cure other than exercise for the adrenalin overload she was currently experiencing from such a stressful half-day at the Bodleian.

Throwing her belongings onto the dining table, the witch quickly changed into running leggings, a tank top, a fleece waterproof jacket, and trail trainers. Locking up, she slipped her phone into her pocket and set off towards the river, walking at first to warm herself up before slowly building into a run, her blood singing in her ears.

Her anxiety disorder and medical excess adrenalin issues were something she’d dealt with since being a child, and although she’d tried medication after medication, none of them worked as well as physical activity did to ease her muscles. Since she’d first come to Oxford, she’d been a part of the New College Boat Club, rowing her spare time. Often she went out onto the river in the very early mornings or late evenings, when the river was much less busy, but since none of the undergraduates had arrived at the university yet, it was clear.

She relaxed once she’d retrieved the usual single skull and oars she used from the boathouse and set the boat into the water, clambering in and pushing out into the current of the river. Once Felicity had gained a steady, soothing rhythm in her strokes, she felt as if she was almost weightless, flying over the top of the water. Her heart was pumping, limbs thrumming. This was the appropriate kind of adrenaline rush she should be feeling; the kind of rush she enjoyed, much better than overwhelming panic and agitation.

After fifteen minutes or so of swift rowing, Felicity was forced to slow down as two other single rowers ahead of her came into sight, floating along the river at a much slower pace. She didn’t mind the break, however; it gave her time to catch her breath, sweeping the stray strands of hair back which had come loose from her ponytail to stick to her sweaty face.

She leaned back, glancing around there was nobody else approaching her boat from behind.

Felicity’s heart skipped a beat.

“What the hell,” she muttered.

There was a small woman standing on the west bank, chewing on a cigarette and on her phone, but very obviously watching her. Judging by the prickling sensation of light touches over Felicity’s collarbones, she was a daemon. Once the daemon realized that she’d been noticed, her hand holding her mobile phone dropped to her side and she bared her teeth in a wolfish smirk before turning and striding off.

“I don’t understand…”

Felicity’s head whipped around so she could peer towards the east bank. There was an unrecognizable dark haired vampire slipping away behind the cover of the trees, not wanting to get spotted, but the witch could feel his icy gaze against her back and see him vanishing into the foliage to avoid detection.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “They’re following me.”

It was early evening, but the sky was beginning to darken, as it normally did in English Autumns. This excursion out on the river was no longer peaceful and relaxing; Felicity felt just as on edge and alarmed as she had in the Libraries that morning, perhaps even more so considering that there weren’t many people out on the river banks, apart from creatures apparently. A strange daemon, witch or vampire could easily snatch her from her boat once the light was gone, if she was struggling to dock up later on.

Turning the boat around, Felicity began rowing at a fast pace back towards the New College Boathouse. The hairs on the back of her arms and neck stood on end and she thought she saw the same daemon and vampire who she’d caught observing her before a couple more times, although placed that down to her increasing anxiety playing tricks on her unsettled mind. It took barely fifteen minutes to return to the boathouse and Felicity scrambled out of her skull, pulling it out of the water as she cast wary glances at her surroundings. The sun was setting, creating a gloomy atmosphere. The perfect environment for a vampire or daemon to stalk a witch. But there was nobody present and she couldn’t sense anything watching her.

Shrugging off her fleece and dropping it to the ground, Felicity lifted her boat up and carried it back into the boathouse, hanging it up at the back so it could dry off properly. She hurried back to the dock to pick up her oars, storing them with the rest of them in the rack.

“Do you really think it’s safe for you to be out here on your own in the dark?”

She jumped, startled, and when she whipped around with her instinctual magic prepared to lash out at her attacker, inhaled sharply at the sight of Oliver Queen leaning against the wall of the boathouse ten feet away, arms crossed over his chest.

He was partially enveloped by the shadows, which made his eyes appear like pools of gleaming onyx. The dim light from the lightbulb swinging and flickering above revealed he hadn’t changed out of the suit he’d been wearing at the Libraries earlier. Seeing how Felicity had shrunk back at his appearance, Queen straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets and took several carefully measured steps towards her.

“Hello, Dr Smoak,” the vampire said quietly, tucking his hands behind his back. “I think it’s time we talked, don’t you?”

“What are you doing here?” Felicity demanded, refusing to let him intimidate her.

He raised an eyebrow. “No civilized greeting like usual?”

She ignored him. “Are you hunting me?”

If possible, Queen’s eyes blackened even further, dancing over her face and down her to throat again. She desperately wished she had kept her fleece on to hide her neck. “If I was hunting you,” he said, voice calm although a spark of anger was visible in his gaze, “You would have no idea. And I certainly wouldn’t have revealed myself to you.”

“Then you’re at least stalking me,” she fired back. “You and your friends.”

“Friends?” he echoed questioningly.

“The daemon and vampire on the banks as I was rowing.”

Queen’s brow furrowed. His voice was dripping with contempt and indignation as he replied, “You think that a daemon would want to spend time with me? You clearly have little knowledge about how we creatures interact.”

“If they’re not your friends, then they do they keep hanging around you?”

“It’s not me they’re hanging around.”

She huffed, insulted. “I’ve lived in Oxford before. I always visit, every year. The only thing that’s been different this time is _you_. Since you showed up, I’ve been harassed, spied on and followed by numerous other creatures, and even threatened by another witch.”

If possible, Queen looked even more irritated. He took a huge step towards her so he was towering over her, and Felicity held back her squeak when she was backed up to the boathouse wall when she tried to draw away from him. “Dr Smoak, those creatures are not interested in me. Not in the slightest. They are interested in you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she hissed into his face.

“Every daemon, witch, and vampire south of Birmingham is following you,” he told her.

“Why? What could they possibly want from me?”

Queen appeared taken back. So much so that he shuffled away, his expression puzzled. “Do you seriously not know?”

“All I’ve done in Oxford is read a couple of old manuscripts, run and row on the river, research for my latest paper and keep to myself. I don’t actively try and attract attention from other creatures, Professor Queen. In fact, I avoid it.”

He shook his head, frustrated as he ran a hand through his short hair. “ _Think_ , Felicity.” A ripple of fear, mistrust and strangely, awe, passed through her as she heard him say her name for the first time. The vampire uttered the word ‘Felicity’ with such reverence and in such a unique, soft voice that she didn’t really know how to react. “Tell me - what have you been reading?”

Felicity thought back to the manuscripts she’d been consulting over the last few days, but there was only one book that Queen could be referring to. Sara and Nyssa had warned her that the vampire wanted something from her. Now his scrutiny of her made sense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“Don’t try and lie to me,” he snapped, blue eyes intense. “I can hear your heart racing. You know exactly what I’m talking about. The Book of Life.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Then you know it by its manuscript name.”

She gnawed on her lip anxiously. “If this is about Ashmole 782… What do you know about it?”

Queen glanced away, looking exasperated. “Much less than you. I’ve never read it - I’ve never even seen it before. You held it in your hands and opened it up. Now tell me, Dr Smoak, where is it now? What did you do with it?”

“I returned it.”

“I told you not to lie to me,” he growled.

“I’m not lying!” she protested. “I did return it!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You can’t possibly think that I stole it from the Bodleian. Is that what you’re suggesting? How dare you think of me like that! I would never steal a manuscript from the Bod.”

Exhaling, the vampire cast his gaze towards the river, which was glittering in the rising moon’s light. “You didn’t have it today on your desk, and you didn’t have yesterday either.” 

“Aren’t you observant,” Felicity snapped.

“And I know you didn’t take it back to your rooms.”

“How would you know that?” she said sharply. Guilt flittered over his face and she gaped at him, in disbelief at what Queen was revealing. “Did you break into my rooms!?”

“I had to.”

“Oh, you _had to_ ,” she repeated sarcastically.

“I needed to make sure you weren’t hiding the book.”

Fury washed over her, lighting every nerve end in her body on fire. Felicity’s anger dulled her fright at the revelation that this vampire had been stalking her. Her magic crackled below the surface and she could feel her fingers tingling, like they did when she was about to emit little bolts of lightning from the tips. “What’s so special about this manuscript that you would force your way into somebody else’s private property?” Felicity snarled.

Queen winced, shooting her an almost apologetic look. But that look was quickly replaced by one of seriousness. “Ashmole 782 has been missing for centuries, and yet you were able to call it up. Aren't you curious why? That book has never appeared to me or anyone else, no matter what we've done. Only to you.”

Felicity eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want it?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think it does. As far as I’m aware, it’s an alchemical text. You’re a biochemist - why would you be interested in it?”

“Let’s call it simple curiosity,” he answered, sounding aggravated by this line of questioning.

“So I’m not allowed to lie to you, but you can lie to me?”

He shook his head in infuriation. “You must be careful, Dr Smoak. The creatures in the Libraries who have been watching you - they want the manuscript.”

“How do they even know about it? How do you know about it?”

Queen rolled his eyes. “I overheard two witches gossiping about a fellow witch, an American, who found the lost book in the Bodleian and had an adverse reaction to it. Word obviously spread. Creatures have arrived in Oxford, searching you out because they want Ashmole 782 and they think that you can get it for them. When they realize what an unusual witch you are, their interest will only increase.”

Her rage from before drained out of her, and confusion and dread took over. She felt dizzy from the hum of adrenalin in her veins. “What do you mean?”

He looked her up and down, lips pursed. “It’s extremely rare for a witch to have so much raw, untapped potential.”

“No. I don’t use magic.”

The vampire’s eyes flashed, a storm brewing within them. “I can feel your power,” Queen said, his voice dropping deep and vibrating so that it sounded like a panther’s purr. “I can see it as well. Not everybody can, at least not yet - but I can. You shimmer with magic when you’re concentrating, angry or upset. Soon, other creatures will sense it as well, and it will be much more difficult for you to conceal.”

“I’m telling you, I _don’t_ use magic,” Felicity insisted, her heart in her throat.

“You do. I saw you,” he pressed. “In the Libraries - when you were trying to reach _Notes and Queries_ -”

“- That was an accident!” She looked down at the floor, certain her cheeks were bright red from embarrassment.

Queen appeared even more dubious. “So the only creature able to summon the book is a witch who can’t even control her magic?” he muttered to himself, bewildered.

Felicity raised her hands into the surrender position. “Look, if you want the manuscript, I don’t have it. You _know_ I don’t. You can tell when I’m telling the truth or not - you can hear my heart rate. So am I lying?”

He squinted at her, silence falling for a moment. “No,” he finally determined.

“Exactly. I don’t have Ashmole 782.”

“All right,” Queen sighed. “You don’t have it.”

“I appreciate your warning about the other creatures,” she said, preparing to leave. “But I don’t need your help.”

He caught her arm as she attempted to stride off, his hand squeezing and stopping her in her tracks. “Don’t be too sure of that.”

“I can take care of myself, Professor Queen,” she lifted her chin defiantly.

“Then just try and be slightly more heedful of the creatures around you,” he argued. “Be vigilant, and cautious - especially if you see that male witch from today again.”

Remembering how the male witch had mentally recoiled from her burst of force when he’d been rummaging around her mind, she replied tightly, “I promise I will be careful. Now, let go of my arm, please.”

Whatever strange concerned expression that had been plastered on the vampire’s face vanished, replaced with a dark, ominous look. Releasing her arm, Queen fixed her with one last intense glance, those blue eyes fierce, before sweeping out of the boathouse. Felicity watched him go with her breath held. There was a niggling at the back of her mind, however, that told her this encounter with the vampire was not over, not yet. She slowly trailed after him, twisting trembling hands together.

Queen was kneeling down on the dock, bending over to pick up her fleece jacket, which she’d abandoned there after getting out of her boat. Felicity opened her mouth to call out to him to leave it, that she would fetch it herself, but her words died in her throat when she saw him rise unsteadily to his feet, lifting the fabric to his nose to scent.

“What are you doing?” Felicity murmured.

When their gazes met over the top of the fleece, a new kind of terror spread through Felicity. Because there was a ferocious hunger shining in those unnatural cobalt eyes, a primal thirst that instantly caused her to start shaking with trepidation.

“Dr Smoak,” Queen whispered, his teeth bared and a rumble erupting from his chest. “Walk past me. Very slowly. No sudden movements.”

He’d slipped into predator instincts. At the moment, he was a ravenous wolf on the hunt, and she was a rabbit in the wrong place, at the wrong time. If she made the wrong move, he was lash out and attack her. If she moved too quickly, he could startle and lunge at her. Felicity knew there was no way she was getting her fleece back now, especially not when Queen had such a tight grasp on it and he was in this feral state.

Her every step cautious and delicate, Felicity crept past the vampire.

When she was just passing by him, directly in line, Queen released a heavy snarl and shouted, “ _GO!_ ”, almost making her jump, but the witch forced herself to remain perfectly still. “But don’t run. Not until you’re at least twenty feet away from me.”

Her heart was beating so loudly that she couldn’t hear anything else except the rush of blood through her ears. Felicity continued walking slowly until she was more than thirty feet away from him, not wanting to tempt fate. She glanced back around once she reckoned it was safe. Queen had his back to her, his arms dropped to his sides with her fleece still wrapped around his hand. The vampire’s head was turned slightly towards her, listening to her footsteps as she left.

Felicity began to run.

When she looked over her shoulder again, Oliver Queen was gone.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said I'd be updating tomorrow (Sunday) on twitter but things have come up and I won't be able to now, so you get the chapter early today.
> 
> Probably won't be updating until late next week/next weekend, however, with a much longer chapter than usual.
> 
> Thank you for all your support!!! Enjoy!

The sky was grey with dark clouds threatening rainfall the next morning, more typical Autumn weather for England. Felicity had barely been able to sleep the previous night due to horrific nightmares about those feral cobalt eyes being fixed on her and the vampire hunting her down, which woke her every couple of hours.

The terror that had plagued her as Queen bared his teeth in a thirsty growl would haunt her dreams for the next few days, she was certain. Just a simple sniff of her concentrated natural body odor on her fleece had been enough to make him almost turn wild on her. And yet… she could not deny her desire to run into Oliver Queen again.

She was confused. More than she ever had been in her entire life. Felicity had no clue what was going on with Ashmole 782 and the creatures following her. Queen hadn’t provided her with any answers so far, and she reckoned she wouldn’t be able to work it out anytime soon either. Her only choice was to carry on as normal - or as normal as possible - and attempt to pluck leads and clues out as they came along, so she could eventually figure the mysteries out.

By the time the sun was peeking above the horizon, all the witch wanted to do was remain curled up in bed in her pajamas, cocooned in blankets. Nevertheless, Felicity forced herself to rise and go for a quick run around New College, the adrenalin that had built up from last night making her limbs ache and head spin. The heavy weather convinced her that going out onto the river would not be sensible, as a storm was threatening to break above her head. With every thud of her trainers against the pavement, some stiffness leached from her body, stretching out her sore muscles and helping her relax. 

She was ready for another tiring day of research when she got back; she was determined not to let Queen or any of the other creatures drive her out of the Bodleian. As long as she had papers to read and manuscript to make notes for, she would keep returning to the Libraries.

“Morning, Dr Smoak!” Rene, the porter greeted her cheerfully, as she was heading back up to her rooms.

“Morning, Rene. How’s Zoe?” she questioned, referring to his daughter.

“Just starting Year 8,” he beamed at her.

“Still interested in art?”

“As always,” he laughed. “Hey, it’s good I ran into you, blondie. I’m sorry, but I had to turn away your friend last night. It’s college policy if they don’t have a key, evidence of visiting a resident or we haven’t been warned they’ll be coming. Next time you’re having guests, just let us know and we can send them up straight away, no hassle.”

Felicity’s stomach twisted. “Who was it?” she questioned urgently. “A man or a woman?”

“A woman. She seemed very nice. We did call up to your rooms but it was late and you must have been asleep.”

Felicity glanced away with a frown. She’d switched her rooms’ phone onto silent as sometimes Nyssa and Sara didn’t calculate the time difference between New York and England properly, and ended up accidentally calling her at 3am. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll… make sure I tell the office before I expect future visitors.”

Rene tipped his hat and walked away. As Felicity showered, changed out of her work-out clothes and into her outfit for the day, she wondered, troubled, who exactly had been trying to visit or get into her rooms last night. Maybe she had been a little too hasty in dismissing Queen’s help. He knew a lot more about creatures than she did… perhaps he would even be able to work out who her ‘visitor’ had been. Pulling on a sweater, Felicity tried to cover up the now huge black circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and anxiety with make-up, trying to make herself appear less like a corpse and more like a living person. Yanking her semi-wet hair into a messy knot, she grabbed her laptop and backpack and set off for the Libraries.

Queen wasn’t there when she arrived - in fact, the Bodleian was rather empty. As Felicity settled down in seat A4 in Duke Humfrey’s Reading Room, she was instantly able to relax and she was the only creature in there.

While Felicity was waiting for Curtis to fetch her manuscripts from the reserve shelves, she opened up her laptop and, making sure the screen wasn’t visible in case anybody crept up behind her, determined to start searching up on Professor Queen. She pulled his business card out of her purse where she’d stashed it days before, propping it up so she could read the contents of it. She wanted to know why a scientist of Queen’s caliber - a biochemist - was so interested in an alchemical text. If he wasn’t going to be honest with her, she would find the answers out herself.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t require any less legal internet activities - judging by his business card, Queen was already well-known in the scientific community, and there would be enough information about him online that Felicity wouldn’t have to dip into one of her more unlawful hobbies of hacking.

She typed his name up into the search bar, and a surprisingly low number of results emerged. Opening a couple of the pages up onto separate tabs, Felicity scanned his Wikipedia page, his Oxford faculty description and his personal page on the Royal Society website. She was frustrated to find little intel available. Clearly, he didn’t like having any information - even academic, not just personal - available to the wider public. It didn’t shock her that Queen was a private person. Most vampires were.

He was listed on the John Radcliffe Hospital Neurosciences page as a research associate, and there were several links on his Royal Society page to online libraries which contained papers he’d apparently written, but any and all useful information that was teased on the main pages was hidden in portals, which you had to log-in to access.

She debated hacking into the private portals, but just decided she would search for his diaries instead. Luckily, as a member of New College, Felicity had access to Oxford Univerity’s virtual library, which had subscriptions to hundreds of journals, scientific blogs, and online collections. Queen’s name in the search bar here resulted in two pages worth of scholarly literature.

Felicity was by no means an expert on the latest scientific technologies or research, so skimmed several of the papers he’d published just to get some background information. There was one article he’d written about how the brain’s frontal lobe processed urges, cravings, and addiction; another on neural mechanisms involving the prefrontal cortex. Strangely, after about five different papers on the brain and nervous system, Queen’s work shifted toward the genetic side of science. He’d written a long and apparently incredible report on Norweigan wolves, where he’d been analyzing their blood to determine family groups and inheritance patterns in a pack he’d studied closely. Reviews of the article were basically calling Queen the next David Attenborough. The paper was mostly about the exchange of genetic material and mutations within gene pools that influenced species evolution. At the end, it described how Queen was now tracing inherited traits among humans, using new methods for staining human tissue and working with old, damaged DNA samples.

Oliver Queen was a geneticist just as much as he was a biochemist. Felicity shook her head and rubbed her palms over her stinging eyes, aghast. There were so many publications with Queen’s name on the byline, almost too many to count. There was over seventy years worth of research listed here. It seemed as if Queen had almost been working on some of these projects of his for decades. He was obviously funded up to his eyeballs - he must have been awarded dozens of grants throughout his ‘short’ career. He had a young face, appearing roughly in his late twenties, or early thirties, but this just proved that the vampire was much, much older than he looked.

But Felicity was no closer to unraveling the mystery of why Queen was interested in Ashmole 782. He had no history of alchemy, which she’d been hoping to find to explain his intrigue. He’d called the manuscript ‘The Book of Life’ - maybe he was hoping it had some sort of evolutionary information or diagrams within it, to help with his genetic studies?

She snapped her laptop closed, leaning back with a sigh. Felicity had come to the conclusion that the only way she was ever most likely going to find out why Oliver Queen wanted Ashmole 782, was if he took it upon himself to tell her.

“No Professor Queen today?” Curtis commented, as he was delivering her manuscripts.

“Nope,” she shrugged. Then she frowned. “You sound surprised.”

“He just always seems to turn up when you do, that’s all.”

The witch bit her lip. “Oh, really?” she said, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“I think he’s got a thing for you,” Curtis snickered.

Her eyes flashed up to him. “Why would you say that?”

“He’s always staring at you when you’re not looking. And he always asks where you’re sitting - or _going_ to be sitting - when he comes in.” He bent over, whispering teasingly, “To be honest, I don’t think he comes in here to work… I think he comes in here to spend time watching you.”

Her cheeks were burning. “Right. Thank you, Curtis.”

He winked. “You should tap him if you get the chance.”

“ _Curtis!_ ” she squeaked in protest.

“Just saying!” he called back, striding off back to the front desk.

Felicity worked for another hour before breaking for lunch. She handed the books back in to be held while she was out of the Libraries and Curtis agreed to store her bag and laptop in the office for her. After grabbing a sandwich and a vital cup of coffee from the nearest cafe, which she managed to nurse for half an hour, Felicity returned to the Bodleian.

Her desk and table were still free.

The one next to it… not so much.

Queen was sitting quietly, ankles crossed under the chair as his gaze swung between the manuscript he was reading and his laptop, where he was typing up notes. His shoulders jerked as Felicity cautiously approached after dumping her stuff into A4, but he didn’t turn towards her. The vampire had back-up, it seemed, in the form of a female vampire standing across from him and sorting out a stack of books. She was tall with thick, glossy brunette hair, wearing black slim-fitting jeans, a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket over the top. This vampire was not as afraid to make eye contact with Felicity as Queen now appeared to be. She stared at the witch with fierce eyes of amber and hazel, her withering gaze like frostbite on Felicity’s skin, which caused her magic to simmer. She did not appear very happy to be here in the Libraries, escorting Queen, and she seemed to be blaming Felicity for that.

It was easy to hear the female vampire’s annoyed snarl and Felicity stopped in place, hesitant about getting closer.

“Dinah,” Queen admonished, glancing up at her with a glower. 

“Your witch is here,” the female vampire, ‘Dinah’, informed him snidely.

Queen softened when he twisted around to face Felicity, although the wariness and faint fear in his expression were clear. He was afraid of scaring her again. “Dr Smoak… good afternoon.”

Felicity withheld her flinch. Queen hadn’t hurt her last night - had actively fought not to, despite his instincts telling him to hunt her. She didn’t have to be frightened of him. “Good afternoon, Professor Queen,” she said calmly, tucking a stray strand of hair from her messy bun behind her ear with a small smile. “Back here in the Bodleian again, I see.”

“Needham’s papers continue to fascinate me.”

“Clearly.”

The female vampire huffed, dropping the book she was currently carrying down onto the worktop with a loud thump, irritated at being ignored.

Queen glanced over at her with an amused look. “This is Dr Dinah Drake, my research colleague, and close friend. Dinah, this is Dr Smoak.”

“The oh-so-important Dr Smoak we’ve been hearing so much about,” Dinah said. Her voice wasn’t blunt, just cool and slightly curious.

She extended her hand and Felicity took it, jumping at the shocking temperature difference. Dinah’s hand was freezing, so much colder than Queen’s usually was. She didn’t let Felicity go, her grip growing tighter when the witch tried to withdraw, and Felicity struggled not to wince from the pain of her bones grinding together. She only released the witch when Queen issued a quiet growl of warning.

Felicity resisted the urge to shake her cramped hand out. “It’s… nice to meet you,” she responded, apprehensive.

“And you,” Dinah cocked her head sideways, sniffing at her. “Did you enjoy the egg and cress sandwich you had for lunch?”

“Yes, I did,” she said steadily.

“Salt and vinegar crisps too.”

“Dinah,” Oliver bit out harshly.

The female vampire rolled her eyes at her research partner. “I’m just making small talk.”

“Not very good small talk.”

“What would you suggest I speak to her about then?” Dinah snorted.

“I would _suggest_ you mind your tone,” Queen said.

This was beginning to get awkward. Felicity pointed behind her to her belongings. “Um, I should probably get back to work.”

“Yes, of course,” Queen acknowledged, nodding. As Felicity wheeled away, he moved towards her, reaching out as if to take hold of her arm, but he seemed to reconsider at the last moment, shifting nervously. “Dr Smoak…” He searched through his laptop bag - and withdraw her fleece from last night, neatly folded. She’s almost forgotten he had it. But seeing it now, Felicity was reminded of how those long, strong fingers had gripped it so tightly after scenting it, that it had come close to tearing within his grasp. “I’m sorry about last night. I should have been in better control. It’s been a while since I smelt a witch’s scent that potent and I should not have reacted that way.”

There was a tense beat of silence between them.

Felicity took the fleece from him, clenching her jaw when their fingers brushed. “Don’t worry about it,” she eventually told him, her voice reassuring as she tucked the article of clothing under her arm.

“But I have been,” he replied quietly.

She shrugged. “Then you don’t need to anymore. You had a moment of… lacking impulse control. But nothing happened because of it. You don’t need to apologize for something that you didn’t do.”

He appeared unsure, but agreed tentatively, “All right. I hope you have a productive day.”

Sliding into her seat after placing her fleece into her bag for safekeeping, Felicity immersed herself in an alchemical script once again. As time passed by, she realized why Queen and his vampire friend took up vigil on the next table along - more creatures were arriving. The witch attempted to brush off the ice patches over her shoulders and stroking sensation down her back as the vampires, daemons, and witches who were slowly coming into the Libraries fixated their gazes on her. When a particularly brave daemon set up on the desk across from her, Felicity swallowed nervously, keeping her eyes focused on the pages in front of her.

Scraping of a chair very close to her prompted her to glance up warily. Dr Drake was sitting down directly opposite her, shielding her from the daemon’s view. The vampire moved with casual grace, making it appear to the few humans in the room as if she was changing desks so she could have more room to spread out her books. But the moment Dr Drake settled in her seat, the coldness and strange touches stopped, and Felicity was left alone. Nobody was looking at her anymore.

“Thank you,” she muttered under her breath.

Dr Drake raised her eyes and they shared a look of respect and understanding. “Don’t mention it,” she answered in a clipped tone, but there was a sympathetic tone to her voice that Felicity didn’t expect, that made her think that the female vampire pitied her for the situation she was in, with all these creatures paying attention to her.

Queen moved over to the table as well when Felicity froze up, the threatening presence of the rude male witch from before entering the room. He certainly wasn’t pretending to be changing desks for a reason - he peered around the room with ferocious cobalt eyes, glaring at anybody who dared to spare him a questioning glance. Immediately, the male witch’s presence fled the Libraries. After a moment, some of the other witches, vampires, and daemons up and left as well. Within fifteen minutes, she, Dr Drake and Professor Queen were the only creatures in Duke Humphrey’s Reading Room. Oliver Queen was protecting her, again. Felicity suspected that was only because of his interest in her due to Ashmole 782, but she appreciated him helping her out anyway. The three of them worked separately and silently, but there was a very weird, shared kinship between them forming.

Drake departed around five pm, but the witch and vampire stayed in the Libraries until closing time. Felicity knew that Queen had probably wanted to leave hours ago, but he’d stayed to make sure she wasn’t alone. As the witch handed her books over to Curtis and wrote out a couple more request slips, she decided that she needed to do two things.

The first thing was really a matter of politeness, and courtesy.

“Professor Queen?” she asked, once her bag was on her shoulder and she was ready to leave.

He glanced up at her, those blue eyes perplexed.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

“For what?”

“You know what.”

He held her gaze, blinking once in astonishment. “You’re welcome, Dr Smoak,” he replied.

The second thing was much more calculated, and was something she was much more anxious about.

“Felicity,” she corrected. She blushed when his brow furrowed. “You can call me Felicity. If you want.”

“Felicity,” he echoed. And then Queen smiled. It was genuine and reached his eyes, which were sparkling with mirth. The witch was mesmerized for a moment, her heart skipping a beat and clenching in her chest; she didn’t think a vampire could ever look that happy. “Okay. But you have to call me Oliver.”

She nodded, slightly breathless from the way he was looking at her with such endearment. She ducked her head, unable to stop her cheeks from flushing red. Queen - no, Oliver - tilted his head sideways and she watched as his nostrils flared a little, obviously scenting her. Whatever he smelt from Felicity only made his grin grow larger, and more wolfish. She felt exposed, but oddly safe around him.

“I suppose it would be futile to ask you to dinner again, wouldn’t it?” he said, chuckling.

Felicity’s lips quirked up into her own delicate smile. “You’re persistent, so I have the feeling that you’re going to keep asking until I say yes.”

“That would be correct. So?”

“So, what?”

“So are you agreeing to dinner with me?”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re after Ashmole 782?” she asked.

His expression shuttered.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” she said pointedly.

“Have a pleasant evening, Felicity,” he responded, voice lingering on her name in that way it did before, making it sound special and captivating.

She hesitated to ask it, but she wanted to know the answer. “Are you going to follow me home?”

Oliver’s eyes darkened, cheek twitching. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“Tell you that it would be more gentlemanly to escort me rather than stalk me.”

“And am I allowed to escort you?”

She didn’t reply. Just raised an eyebrow, turned away and walked off. On her way back to New College that evening, as sunset transformed into dusk and the peach tinges of the sky turned orange and then slowly purple, Felicity spotted a dark figure on several street corners. Watching over her. Like a guardian angel.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back with another chapter, a slightly longer one! hope you enjoy xx thank you once again for all your support, i really appreciate all your feedback and comments! thank you to those who have messaged me as well xx

_Drowning._

_She was drowning._

_There was water all around her, suffocating and crushing and dense. Felicity screamed, her lungs shrinking into nothingness in her chest as she flailed through the thick liquid. She was falling, sinking down into the darkness below. She tried to swim towards the lighter waters above, where the surface lay, but something grabbed her by her ankles and yanked her deeper._

_Her magic surged within her, and although she imagined it bursting out uncontrollably, it remained trapped within her body, writhing under her skin and creating an agonizing burning sensation. She couldn't breathe. Felicity was being dragged down into the murky depths of a pool and she was going to die, she just knew it._

Felicity screamed, jolting up in bed and almost throwing herself out of it. She scrambled when she found the blankets were tangled around her limbs, making her feel confined. Disorientated and soaked with sweat, the witch collapsed down onto her knees, panting frantically. Her heart was beating so fast and powerfully that it reverberated through her ribcage painfully.

Stumbling to her feet, sick to her stomach, Felicity barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. Lying on the cold tiles as she swilled her mouth out and brushed her teeth, Felicity checked the time on her phone. It was nearly 4am. Crawling back into bed when she knew she wasn’t going to get back to sleep was pointless. Her adrenalin was so high that it would be impossible to rest until she exercised.

Her movements were sluggish as she got dressed in work-out clothes. Although she still felt ill, she felt as if running was the only way she was going to clear her head. The porter currently guarding the New College doors was not one she had met before - he worked part of the night shift, after wall - aimed a concerned look her way as she exited the building, but didn’t say anything to her. 

It was drizzling with rain and still quite dark, as dawn was yet to occur. Felicity didn’t care. The light from the streetlamps was decent enough that she didn’t feel afraid of being alone on the streets. Fatigue from another night of poor sleep weighed her body down, however, so she was more jogging than running. Her trainers provided enough grip on the slick pavement that she could still maintain a reasonable pace. Turning down the path that led to the canal, the thick fog made it so difficult to see that she was forced to turn back, as although the long, straight stretch of river was enticing to run next to, she didn’t want to slip in her exhausted state and accidentally fall in. Everybody knew that the canals around England had rather toxic water in them. She didn’t want to end up in an ambulance before the sun even rose.

Felicity headed towards the New College boathouse once most of her adrenalin had been driven away. The fog would thin out soon and she could get out onto the river for a quick row, before it got too crowded. It was quiet on the path she followed. The rustle of trees and a couple of squirrels searching for food were her only company. The witch found her eyes flickering closed as she walked, Oxford fading away and a peaceful darkness taking over her. Her mind slowly emptied and she found the blankness of her thoughts soothing.

“Felicity?”

She yelped, jumping in fear when her eyes shot open to find a dark outline looming above her. The black shape caught both of her arms when she nearly toppled over in her shock, catching her before she hit the ground hard.

Oliver Queen’s face swam into view, creased with worry and his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m so sorry, Felicity. I thought you’d seen me. I was right in front of you.”

She rubbed her eyes when the vampire released her arms and stepped away, trying to slow her desperate breathing. “I was walking with my eyes shut, not your fault.”

He helped her over to a bench nearby, guiding her to sit down. The vampire was watching her carefully, cocking his head sideways with his ear directed towards her. He was most likely listening to her racing heart. Oliver sat next to her silently, his hand resting on the wood in the space between them, tantalizingly close to her thigh, as if he wanted to touch her to try and reassure her, but couldn’t convince himself to.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied. “Not if you’re planning on asking me why I’m out running in the fog by myself when there are creatures stalking me.” She wasn’t in the mood for being lectured at the moment, not when she was so tired and could barely think straight.

Oliver shot her an irritated look. “Although that really is a great question, I was actually going to ask you why you were walking with your eyes closed.”

Felicity couldn’t help but snicker. “What, do you not?” He frowned at her, staring scrutinizingly. His eyes were scanning up and down her arms, over her chest and neck, as if he was searching for something. She realized what he was doing - he was trying to figure out if she was using magic to See with her mind, rather than with her sight. The witch sighed. “It’s not magic, Oliver. It’s just something I’ve always done, ever since I was a kid.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I was always coming home with bruised shins, scratched knees, and sprained ankles,” she reminisced, smiling fondly at the memories. “It used to drive Sara and Nyssa insane.”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, gazing out into the mist. Felicity blinked at him, looking at him properly for the first time this morning. Today, he was dressed in slim black chinos and a powder blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Given the rain, cold wind and fog, the fact that he wasn’t wearing a sweater or jacket of any kind made him look strange, and gave away how unusual he was. Felicity tried not to feel like a complete and utter mess next to him, considering she was dressed in sweat-drenched thermal leggings and a fleece.

“There aren’t very many people out this early,” Oliver commented.

“What time is it?” she asked, not knowing how much time had passed since she’d left her rooms.

“Nearly six-thirty,” he relayed. “Did you enjoy your run?”

“It was good,” she shrugged.

The vampire nodded, and then said lowly, “Don’t you think it’s risky to be out running in this kind of weather, when so few humans are about?”

“Risky how?”

“If something were to happen to you while alone, nobody would be here to see it.”

Oliver had a point, but Felicity poked him in the arm and replied, “Well, I’m not alone right now. _You’re_ here with me. And next week, the undergraduates will be arriving, and they’ll be milling about getting ready for early morning lectures. I’m trying to enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts.”

“Does term really start next week?”

“I thought you were on the faculty,” she raised an eyebrow.

He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “Technically I am, but I’m at the university in more of a research capacity. I run a couple of the biochemistry lab tutorials for the medics later on in the year, but other than that, I don’t see many of the students.”

Felicity scoffed. “Must be nice. Next month I have to give a four-hundred-seat lecture to freshmen.” A splatter of rain from above caused the witch to shiver, pulling her damp fleece sleeves down to cover up her cold hands. “I should probably head home before the weather gets even worse.”

“I can give you a ride,” Oliver offered, standing and offering her his hand.

A week ago, Felicity would never have even considered accepting a lift home from a vampire. But after growing considerably comfortable around Oliver, and the clouds threatening to break open in a downpour above, it seemed like a brilliant idea.

It also gave her the perfect opportunity and private moment, away from any prying humans and creatures, to ask again why a geneticist-biochemist vampire might be intrigued by a seventeenth-century, bewitched alchemical manuscript. Oliver could try and evade her questions once more, but if they were in a car together, it would be much more difficult for him to walk away without answering.

“Thank you, that sounds great,” she replied honestly, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet.

The dazzling grin Oliver hit her with almost made Felicity’s knees buckle. And not just because of the flash of those dangerous teeth. “Wonderful. My car’s parked nearby.” He pointed behind him, in the vague direction of Christ Church College.

The two of them began walking side by side towards the building. Every so often, the vampire’s arm would brush up against Felicity’s, but she didn’t jump in fright as she would have before. Felicity couldn’t walk very fast due to her tiredness and difficulty seeing through the fog, but Oliver seemed to be slowing down, shortening his strides so that she could keep up with him. Although they remained in silence, it was a pleasant and companionable one.

Oliver led her to an enclave that was part of Christ Church College’s surrounding wall, where a sleek black Jaguar was parked. Felicity shot him a dirty look when she saw the bright yellow sign hanging above the car, proclaiming that _NO PARKING AT ANY TIME_ was permitted. The vampire didn’t seem to care, unlocking the vehicle and opening up the door for her. Sliding into the passenger seat, the witch ran her fingers over the caramel-colored leather interior with awe. She’d never seen a car this luxurious before. Oliver obviously had a lot of money. Research was not the best paying, but his long, practically immortal existence had obviously allowed him to accumulate a rather large bank account.

He pulled the car out into the early morning traffic. Before Felicity could scrounge up the courage to ask him about Ashmole 782, she noticed that the next turning Oliver took was a right down the High Street - in the wrong direction from New College.

“You’re going the wrong way,” she said.

“I know,” he responded quietly. “I’m not taking you back to New College. You haven’t eaten since yesterday and you’re hungry - I was planning on taking you for breakfast.”

Felicity turned to him with an incredulous expression. What was it with Oliver and his strange obsession with asking her out to meals? Did he want to watch her eat? Did vampires even eat? She knew that vampires’ diets mainly consisted of blood - human blood, if they could get their hands on it - but she wasn’t sure if they actually fed on normal human food as well. The idea of having Oliver watch her eat, especially after the events of the boathouse two days ago, was one that made her anxious.

“I can drive you straight home if you would prefer,” the vampire said hurriedly, glancing over at her with an apologetic look. He could obviously sense her unease. “I just thought that after exercising this morning, you might want a proper cooked breakfast.”

“That does sound good,” Felicity admitted. “And I could kill for some proper coffee right now, not just instant.”

His lips quirked up into a gentle, self-satisfied smile, turning back to the traffic. “I know the perfect place.”

“Don’t look so smug,” she warned. “This is breakfast. Nothing close to dinner.”

“Are you determined to never have dinner with me?” Oliver laughed.

Felicity stared out the window at the blurry yet beautiful city of Oxford beyond the glass, admiring the spires, towers, and botanical gardens as they drove past. “You keep asking. I’ll agree to dinner when you stop.”

“So one day, when I stop requesting you dine with me, you’ll just spontaneously consent to dinner?”

“Yep.”

The vampire chuckled under his breath. “You’re such a peculiar witch.”

“And you’re a very unusual vampire,” she countered.

Oliver swiftly turned the car down a side street, pulling up into an open parking space in front of a tiny, endearing cafe. There were old wooden picnic tables outside with mismatched secondhand chairs, where locals were seated, drinking huge mugs of tea and coffee, munching on toast and reading newspapers. Felicity was surprised. She’d never seen this cafe before or heard of it, despite knowing most of Oxford and its back streets pretty well.

“This place is a well-kept secret,” the vampire explained, seeing the intrigued expression on the witch’s face. “Not many people know about it, and they don’t particularly want university fellows coming in and taking up space. They upset the locals.”

“We fall into the university fellows range, you do realize, Oliver.”

“Yes, but the owner likes me,” he smiled, opening up his door. When Felicity turned to grab the door handle, within a second, he was standing outside and opening it up for her.

“Vampire speed isn’t fair,” she huffed, clambering out. “And I can open my own door, thank you very much.”

Oliver looked put out. “Why do women of the twenty-first century insist on opening doors themselves?” he muttered.

“We like being independent,” Felicity replied, pushing past him so she could shut the car door herself.

They strode up the cafe’s entrance together. Oliver darted ahead and held the door open, waiting with an amused, raised eyebrow. Felicity crossed her arms over her chest, stopping in place with a pointed look. Eventually, the vampire rolled his eyes and stepped inside, although he propped the door open with his foot so she could enter after him. While Oliver’s old-fashioned manners were quite entertaining for now, Felicity could see herself becoming annoyed with them in the future. She paused, frowning. Huh. She’d started thinking about the two of them interacting further in the future. When did that begin?

The tables were crowded, but Oliver guided her through the cafe to the back, where the counter was located. There weren’t any creatures, just humans, and a couple of them stared curiously as the vampire and witch walked past, as if they couldn’t quite put their fingers on what was so strange about the pair of them Felicity tried to stop herself from drooling at the wonderful scent of salty hash browns, fresh coffee and fried food that filled the air from the kitchens. Oliver was right - she was definitely hungry.

“Oliver, hi!” a chirpy female voice called, belonging to a young woman with brunette hair. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in here, wow! Two for breakfast?”

The vampire nodded, flashing one of those disarming, genuine smiles. “Yes, thank you, McKenna. Would it be possible for you to get the woman behind me some coffee, as quick as you can? She’s threatened to murder for it.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” McKenna winked at Felicity. “We serve the best coffee in Oxford here, and without any bloodshed being necessary. I’ll brew you a fresh pot. You can take your usual table, Oliver. Menus are already there and I’ll be over a minute.”

Oliver smiled at her again, and then took Felicity gently by the arm, leading her over to a small section of the wall near the kitchen doors that formed an alcove, hidden from the rest of the cafe. As the witch squeezed into the seat where she had her back to the wall, Oliver settled down opposite her, shielding her from the rest of the room. It was only once he was sitting down, the laminated menu curled in his hands, that Felicity realized that he was visibly bristling like a restless wolf, eyes flickering back towards the rest of the humans in the building every couple of seconds. While they were sectioned away in this little corner of the cafe, they were not alone. Oliver always seemed to prefer it when the two of them were alone.

“You can relax,” she told him softly, scanning the menu. “It’s just humans here. You’ve managed to protect me from all the other creatures we’ve come across so far, and I’m very grateful for that. But there’s no danger here, Oliver. You’re only drawing attention to us. I’m telling you that you’re off-duty as my self-appointed bodyguard.” She paused, and added bluntly, “And remember, I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, I know,” the vampire murmured.

“Then stop tensing up so much.”

He jerked his head back behind him. “A man over there was saying some rather unsavory things about your body,” Oliver said, sounding angry.

“Men always do that,” she told him. “It’s not anything new. Women have been verbally abused by men for centuries, Oliver. Sexism’s always existed. As sad and horrible as it is, it’s not going to stop any time soon and every woman across the globe has had to accept that. At least the man didn’t say anything rude to my face. If you don’t like what you’re hearing, then try and stop using that supernatural hearing of yours to eavesdrop on human conversations.”

Flipping his menu over, he continued to glower as he grumbled, “That’s much easier said than done.”

McKenna shuffled up to them, carrying a french press full of rich, dark coffee, a small jug of fresh milk and two Oxford tourist mugs. The coffee’s aroma was incredible and Felicity couldn’t wait to taste it. “Sugar’s on the table, Oliver.” She made no effort to hide the curious look she was shooting towards the witch.

“McKenna, this is Felicity,” the vampire introduced her. “She’s my…” he hesitated.

They didn’t really know what they were to each other, at this point. They were certainly past the acquaintance point, but beyond that, there wasn’t really a word to describe what their strange relationship was.

“Colleague,” Oliver finally settled on, at the exact same time Felicity offered warily, “Friend.” The vampire stared at her. If he was surprised, he hid it well. She stared back at him, setting her jaw. They weren’t _exactly_ friends but they weren’t just colleagues. Saying that would be a lie. Claiming they were friends was not completely the truth - but it wasn’t a lie.

“You’re from America?” McKenna asked. “Are you from California? I’ve always wanted to visit Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

“Ah, no,” Felicity responded in a regretful manner. “Not from California. Starling City, in Washington.”

“That’s one of the northern Pacific-side states, near the Canadian border, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Nowhere near as warm and sunny as California. I would say the weather in Washington is just as cold and wet as it is here in England. If you want palm trees and great beaches, I would recommend Santa Barbara or San Diego.”

McKenna took her order, her face remaining blank as at the large selection of food Felicity requested, as she’d clearly heard much bigger orders in the past. Felicity was hungry, and since she already suspected Oliver was not going to let her pay, she might as well eat her fill. She needed the food for energy are exercising so much. To her bemusement, the vampire didn’t order anything, just stating he would stick to coffee; McKenna just shrugged, as if this was normal, and picked up their menus before walking off.

“You didn’t order sausage or bacon,” Oliver observed.

“I’m Jewish.”

“You’re a Jewish witch?” he laughed.

“Not all witches are Pagans,” she shrugged. “We’re a species, not a religion. You’re not eating?”

He just smiled at her, pouring himself a small cup of coffee before offering the french press to her. Felicity narrowed her eyes, but let it go. If Oliver wasn’t going to eat, then she wasn’t going to try and convince him to. Pulling one of the mugs towards her, Felicity delicately added one and a half teaspoons of sugar, enough that the coffee’s bitterness wouldn’t cause her to have a headache, and a splash of milk to add a creamy note. Concentrating, she stirred the drink five turns in a clockwise direction, before withdrawing the spoon and taking a sip. It was perfectly balanced and while hot, it didn’t burn her tongue.

Oliver was observing her with an amused smirk, fingers curled around his own mug, although he’d yet to drink from it. “I’ve never seen anybody prepare a cup of coffee with that much attention before.”

“I drink a lot of coffee and I know precisely how I like it,” she responded. “You drink yours straight black, I see.”

“Ah, well,” he glanced away, voice lowering and losing some of its spark. “Coffee is… not usually my drink of preference.”

Felicity swallowed. She had a feeling she knew exactly what drink was his one of preference. It was the one pounding through her arteries and veins currently with adrenalin building up within it. She felt too awkward to say anything else now, and the two of them sat in silence, the witch draining her mug of coffee and the vampire sipping from it occasionally. Thankfully, the silence didn’t last long, as McKenna returned with two plates, one topped with toast and fried bread, and the other piled high with scrambled eggs, hash browns, fried mushrooms, and tomatoes, with a blueberry muffin on the side. Felicity’s eyes widened. She’d only ordered half of what was being served to her.

“I thought you might need more vegetables for vitamins and a little sweetness this morning,” McKenna explained with a grin.

“Thank you,” she replied enthusiastically.

Oliver smiled thankfully at McKenna, pleased by the witch’s overjoyed reaction to the huge plate of food being placed before her. Felicity ravenously attacked the mound of mushrooms and tomatoes with her fork and knife without hesitance. Everything was delicious and hot, the fried food crispy on the outside but juicy on the inside. The witch mentally noted to herself to return to this cafe at least once a week. As she moved from the vegetables to the hash browns, eggs and muffin, Felicity noticed that Oliver was watching her with a tender expression, propping his chin on his hand. She didn’t mind him observing her eat at this point, not when she was enjoying her breakfast so much.

“So,” Felicity said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Why did you decide to study science?” She bit into a crunchy piece of fried bread so he would have to respond to her.

“Why did you decide to study history?” Oliver countered, sipping at his coffee.

She shook her head. “I asked first,” she managed to get out, around her mouthful of food.

Frowning, the vampire fixed his gaze on the tabletop, collecting up scattered salt flakes on his fingertips from where they’d fallen, when Felicity had seasoned her eggs. For a moment, she thought that he wasn’t going to answer, but then he tilted his head and said, “I suppose I needed to know why I’m here. Where I came from.”

“That’s a question for philosophers, not scientists.”

“Scientists care about our origins too, you know that,” he replied sharply, eyes snapping up to her face. Felicity froze when she saw they were filled with barely suppressed anger. Oliver didn’t like her questioning his lines of investigation.

“That’s why you’ve been studying the evolution of species,” the witch realized. “Although I still don’t truly understand the relation between neuroscience, wolf pack genetics, DNA analysis and evolution. They might fit together obviously for a scientist, but it’s not as clear for me.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, stunned. “You’ve been researching me.”

“You knew about all of my work,” Felicity finished off her piece of fried bread. “I was just leveling the playing field.”

“You read some of my scientific journals?”

“Skimmed over them, really. I don’t have good enough scientific knowledge to understand the more complex language, but I got the gist of it.”

He looked, to her surprise, slightly impressed, but also troubled that she had looked into him with such depth. Felicity knew he liked being private - it was why she’d struggled to find out much information on him online - so that explained Oliver’s wariness. “Why history?” he asked, changing the subject.

“You didn’t explain the connection between your disciplines,” she protested.

He shook his head firmly. Oliver was obviously refusing to talk about himself anymore, much to her disappointment. Felicity hadn’t even had the chance to ask about how Ashmole 782 tied into his interests yet. Shifting, Felicity placed her toast back down onto her plate, wrapping her arms around her waist as she decided how to reply.

“I like the neatness of history, I guess,” she said nervously. “Everything in my life so far has been so unstable and erratic… the past is always predictable and easier to understand.”

Oliver snorted dryly. “Spoken like somebody who wasn’t there. Did you decide to study the history of science specifically so you could study alchemy?”

“Researching alchemy’s always been my end goal.”

“And that’s due to alchemy’s connection with magic.”

Felicity startled. “No. No, that’s not why. Alchemy is one of the earliest forms of experimental science, and it’s difficult to find information and texts on it. It’s a form of historical science that you have to decipher and investigate. Every time I pick up one of those books, I’m in a battle with the people who lived hundreds of years ago, trying to understand what they were trying to convey, trying to get into their heads and perceive what those great minds were thinking. It’s nothing to do with magic.”

“But you don’t truly believe that alchemy is devoid of magic,” Oliver replied, sounding certain. “You said you don’t like spontaneity. Experimental science is exactly that. Magic is what increases the probability, allows us to see the outcome of events.”

The witch sighed. “All right. So alchemy is science with magic. Or magic with science. One of the two.”

“What do you prefer?”

Rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably, Felicity jerked her shoulders in a defensive, heavy shrug. “I’m not sure.” After a moment, she looked at him intensely. “Can I ask you something?” Oliver nodded. “Why are you so interested in my work - in alchemy? In Ashmole 782?”

The vampire appeared uncertain. He glanced away, pushing his coffee cup away with one finger, and Felicity panicked for a moment, thinking that he might stand up and walk off. But then Oliver finally looked back to her, his eyes dark and hooded.

“The alchemists wanted to know why we’re here and where we came from as well,” he told her honestly. “Your work allowed me some insight to that.”

“And the manuscript?” she pressed.

He grimaced, not answering.

“It’s an alchemical script,” Felicity continued, leaning forwards. “Or at least I think it must be. But you called it something different. The Book of Life. And in your opinion, alchemy is tied to magic. Do you think it explains our origins? Creature origins? Is that why you want it?”

Oliver checked his watch and stood. “If you’ve finished eating, I should get you back to New College,” he said coldly, and that’s when Felicity’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to tell her anything more. It was so damn frustrating and upsetting at the same time. “I imagine you want to spend another day at the Bodleian, and you must want to change into fresh clothes before heading over there.”

Pushing away her disappointment, Felicity stretched out her stiff limbs and rose from her seat as well. “I definitely need a shower, that’s for sure. And I think I’ll need to go to yoga tonight. I’m spending way too much time hunched over a desk.”

Oliver’s attention was suddenly entirely fixed on her again, his frosty expression replaced with an interested one. “You practice yoga?” he questioned, blue eyes glinting.

“Yep. The careful motion helps with my aching muscles after rowing and running, and I enjoy the relaxation.”

Oliver’s lips quirked up into a soft smile. “I’m not surprised. That’s precisely how you row - a mixture of smooth movement and meditation.”

Felicity felt her cheeks heating up in a blush. She’d known he’d been watching her on the river, but didn’t know he would pay that much attention to her. Dropping a twenty-pound note on the table, Oliver waved goodbye to McKenna, who winked at him, before the vampire took a light hold of the witch’s elbow and steered her out of the cafe. They climbed back into the black Jaguar and he began driving her back towards New College.

“Where do you take your yoga classes?” Oliver asked.

“Um, I’ve been going to that studio on the High Street. It’s close and not too expensive.” She hadn’t found a teacher she actually liked there yet, and had tried at least six of them so far, but she wasn’t about to mention that. Felicity didn’t want Oliver thinking she was picky.

Oliver huffed, keeping his focus on the road. “You won’t find the class you need there. I dabble in some yoga too from time to time, and the class I attend is excellent. It only runs on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, so you’ll have to brave the High Street studio tonight, but if you want to go with me tomorrow to a proper yoga class, I can pick you up outside New College at five.” 

“That sounds… great, actually. What are the classes like?”

Oliver looked as if he was trying to smother an entertained smile. “It’s very hard to describe.” 

He dropped her off at the front of the college and they said their goodbyes. A couple of the porters at the gate office stared and whistled as the black Jaguar pulled away. The witch headed up to her rooms, pulling her sweaty hair out of her ponytail and combing her fingers through it. Breakfast with Oliver had been… nice. He’d been polite and friendly. She was astonished to find herself thinking that if he asked her to breakfast again, she would easily agree. Breakfast wasn’t dinner - didn’t have the implications of dinner - and was more of a casual meal between work colleagues or new friends.

And Felicity was going to be attending a yoga class with a vampire tomorrow.

Sara and Nyssa were going to flip when she texted them about this.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another weekend, another update xx Episode 6 of ADOW yesterday was incredible, I loved it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's yoga time!!!!!
> 
> Thank you all once again for your support.

When the next evening came around, at exactly five o’clock, Felicity found Oliver lounging against the bonnet of his black Jaguar in black work-out clothes, waiting for her outside New College. The sight should have amused her, but the witch could only feel a little annoyed.

Her day in the Bodleian had been unproductive, most of the morning wasted as the conveyor belt that brought the manuscripts up from the storage room had broken, and nothing she’d read after that had helped her with preparing to write her paper and keynote. Oliver hadn’t been in the Libraries today, as instead, he’d sent Dr Dinah Drake to watch over her. At least with Oliver, Felicity could have a decent conversation with. Drake seemed to dislike her greatly and refused to even talk to her. She desperately needed a relaxing yoga session tonight, but she knew that there was a chance her annoyance could grow if Oliver once again avoided answering her questions about his interest in Ashmole 782. Not having any answers was beginning to frustrate her more than confuse her now.

“Good evening, Felicity,” Oliver greeted her.

As Felicity strode up to the car, she nodded curtly to acknowledge the vampire and handed him her yoga mat and bag before reaching for the passenger door handle. But Oliver’s fingers curled around her wrist, restaining her and stopping the motion.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Fine,” she replied. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, finally opening the door and slipping into her seat.

Oliver didn’t believe her, and wouldn’t let her close the door behind her. “Have I done something wrong?” His nostrils flared.

Felicity shot him a scathing look, knowing precisely what he was doing. She’d learned now that he could read her emotions through smelling her blood pheromones and chemical levels. “Stop scenting me, please.”

“Then don’t tempt me,” the vampire responded shortly. Felicity swallowed, ducking her head down. He closed the door and popped the boot open to place her belongings inside, and half a second later, he was seated in the driver’s seat of the Jaguar, having clambered inside with speed, and without any visible effort. Glancing over at her sympathetically, he questioned, “Bad day?”

“Didn’t Dr Drake tell you?” Felicity asked sarcastically.

“No,” Oliver said. “Are you angry at me for not being in the Libraries today to protect you?”

“Why weren’t you there?”

“I’m sorry. I had to attend a conference in London last minute. I should have found a way to contact and warn you this morning, or asked Dinah to tell you. Is that what you’re angry about?”

Felicity slumped. Guilt swamped her now that she could see the vampire was genuinely concerned that she was furious with him. “No, Oliver, I’m not angry at you. I just had a really rough day. If anybody should be sorry, it’s me. I shouldn’t be taking my aggravation out on you.”

Oliver sighed in relief, starting up the car. Felicity remained quiet as they headed down Woodstock Road, but began getting agitated when it appeared they were heading out of Oxford, out into the countryside.

“Where are we going?” she asked suspiciously.

“To yoga.”

“And where is yoga?”

At this point, Oliver looked over at her in exasperation. “Felicity, have you changed your mind? I can take you straight back to New College, or even to that studio on High Street if you’d like.” When the witch didn’t respond beyond wrinkling her nose, remembering how boring the yoga session she had attended last night had been, the vampire exhaled. “Relax, okay? I’m not kidnapping you. The place we’re going is in the outskirts of the city, so it’s not as crowded. Just… try and trust me.”

Trust a vampire?

Trust a creature who had secretive interests in her and in Ashmole 782?

She wanted to reply with ‘ _I’ll trust you when you trust me_ ’, but she settled on staying silent. Closing her eyes, Felicity lay back in her seat, attempting to ease her anxiety and tense muscles. Oliver switched on the radio, tuning it to the classical station, and she allowed the music to sweep over her. She didn’t open her eyes again until she sensed the car slow considerably, immediately met with the sight of a set of huge iron gates settled within a forest of dark trees. The walls either side of the gates were made of russet bricks, worn and old but still strong.

“Where are we?” she murmured.

“You’ll find out soon,” he laughed, leaning out of his open window to type in a code on the gates’ security keypad.

Once the gates gradually swung open, Oliver drove the car through them into the forest beyond. The driveway was made of gravel and it crunched noisily under the tires. They passed a small gatehouse to the right of the gates, hidden by a couple of tall oak trees and thick green foliage. A small plaque engraved _THE OLD LODGE_ was fixed to the wall. Ahead of them, the forest ended, leading out to a large expanse of grassland. As the Jaguar drove over the top of a small hill, it sent a herd of deer, flock of birds and a large group of rabbits scattering through the field. Oliver pulled the car into the circular drive around a rose garden courtyard, parking next to a late-model Mercedes that was the last in a line of a dozen more vehicles. A two-story Tudor style mansion was revealed towering above them as the Jag’s headlights swept around.

Felicity was dumbfounded. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“I thought you’d be impressed,” Oliver chuckled. “Class begins in ten minutes; we should probably head in.”

“Our yoga class is in _that mansion_?” she gaped. Stiffening, she questioned hurriedly, “This isn’t some weird advanced yoga class for rich people, is it?”

“No, it’s a mixed class,” the vampire assured her. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

He collected their yoga mats and bags from the boot, handing Felicity’s over to her. They weren’t the last to arrive, as two more cars were parking up as they traversed across the gravel towards the wide entranceway. Felicity nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Oliver’s cold fingers entwining with her own, gripping onto their hand. She wasn’t expecting the vampire to become so comfortable with affection between them. Oliver continued to hold her hand, tugging it gently as he led her through a large arched gate and squeezing in encouragement as the two of them stepped through the propped open wooden doors.

The mansion was amazingly preserved and Felicity felt like she was stepping back in time. The electric light fixtures seemed to be the only modern addition to this building. She would have been perfectly happy if she were left alone in this house for a couple hours by herself so she could explore. Oliver had to keep jerking on her hand as Felicity stopped every couple of seconds to admire some of the ancient architecture. They entered a chamber that seemed to be acting like a locker room, and Felicity followed the vampire’s actions as he kicked off his shoes and socks, placed his bag in a space on the table and picked up his water bottle and yoga mat.

“Through here,” he nodded towards another wooden door. “But, er -” He stopped the witch as she began heading towards it. “Remember when I said this was a mixed class? Felicity frowned and nodded. “I wasn’t lying. It is mixed. But there is one entrance requirement. You can only get into this class… if you’re one of us.”

“One of us?” Felicity echoed, freezing in place.

Oliver pushed open the door to a grand central hall. Dozens of unnatural, curious eyes peered in their direction, causing nudges, ripples of ice and tingles to erupt across her skin. Felicity forgot how to breathe for a second. The room was full of witches, daemons, and vampires, seated on brightly colored yoga mats and waiting for class to start. Some of them were kneeling, some were lying on their backs or sitting with their legs crossed; a couple even had headphones in their ears. The casual chatter and gossip died when they stepped into the room.

Oliver’s lips brushed against her ear. “I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you… it really is the best class in Oxford and I swear, it is safe here. None of these creatures are interested in you or the manuscript. And if it comes to it, I will protect you.”

The conversations resumed. Felicity heard the brief mention of a spate on unsolved London murders - with bodies drained of blood - but a bolt of anxiety ripped through her. All of these were creatures who posed a threat to humans - and posed a threat to her. She couldn’t help but feel a little scared. Oliver bared his teeth with a growl at the two vampire investment bankers having the discussion and they quickly changed the subject.

A pretty young witch with shoulder-length black hair approached them from the other side of the room, while the rest of the creatures turned away, resuming their quiet conversations. “Oliver,” she greeted him, in a smooth, warm voice. “Welcome back.”

“Shado,” he smiled. “This is the woman I told you about this morning, Dr Felicity Smoak.”

The witch turned to look at Felicity, glancing her up and down closely. Felicity felt as if she’d been placed under a microscope for a moment until a friendly smile appeared on Shado’s face. “Felicity, it’s lovely to meet you. Are you new to yoga?”

“Um, no. But this is my first time… here.”

“Welcome to the Old Lodge,” she said. Felicity’s eyes leaped around the room anxiously, trying to take in all the new faces, and to check that none of the creatures here were ones that had been stalking her recently. Shado placed her hand on Felicity’s shoulder firmly, and to Felicity’s astonishment, her heartbeat slowed and some of her agitation leaked out of her. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Get settled and we’ll start in a minute.”

Oliver rested his hand on the small of Felicity’s back as they carefully maneuvered around the creatures already seated on the floor to the very back of the hall near the doorway, where they set up their own mats. As Felicity folded her legs beneath her and placed her water bottle within reach, her shoulders began to tingle. She twitched, irritated that somebody was apparently watching her, but she couldn’t figure out who.

_Sorry_ , came a sheepish, hasty voice, very distinctly within Felicity’s head.

The class began after that. Shado put on some soft, nature audio with the sound of wind rushing through leaves and rain, and the tension slowly leached out of the room, all the other creatures relaxing. Felicity forced herself to settle as well. Beginning to speak, Shado guided them through some grounding techniques to do with feeling the floor and density of the air around them before leading the group in a gentle warm up.

“We’re here tonight to manage our energy. We spend our lives striving and pretending to be something that we’re not. Attempting to fit in, persisting in this now human-driven world. It can hard to let go of our stress. But here, you can let those worries go. You can honor who you are.”

Today’s class was apparently focused on spinal stretching, which was good, as it was one of the areas of her body Felicity felt as if she was quite tight and inflexible. Shado showed them a series of poses and contortions that created a pleasant ache all the way up Felicity’s back, and then asked them to repeat it several times. Half-way through her second attempt at the routine, as Felicity was swooping her body smoothly down from downward dog to cobra, the witch noticed in shock that a trio of witches near the front seemed to be floating a couple of inches off the floorboards. Shado had to help them back down, pushing on their shoulders carefully until their bodies were settled again, and once the three witches were back on the ground, the energy of the room calmed once again.

They moved from starter poses into more harder ones, and at this point, Felicity realized that the description ‘mixed class’ was not only referring to the selection of creatures present, but also referring to ability. While most of the class were able to manage boat, crane and bridge poses, the more different ones such as firefly, side crane and king pigeon were only achieved by a few. She struggled with them, but it appeared that Oliver found most of these body contortions effortless. A variety of the vampires were raising and holding their bodies in gravity-defying arm balances, headstands, and spine curls; there was one point where Felicity saw Oliver balancing his entire body on nothing but his elbow. When he saw her watching disbelievingly, he winked and jerked his head to flick his hair out of his face. Embarrassed at being caught, the witch twisted away into a fish pose so he couldn’t see her burning cheeks.

By the hour mark, Felicity had drained her water bottle and was practically dripping with sweat. She was glad when Shado announced that they were going to start warming down for the night. That relief, however, faded quickly when she discovered the final pose was going to be corpse. Due to her adrenalin overloads, she found it basically impossible to lie completely flat on her back with her eyes closed without moving a muscle. Once her body was horizontal, she tried to lock her joints so she couldn’t move at all, but after a minute, Felicity just found her anxiety increasing. Everybody else seemed to be enjoying this pose, but she hated it. She tried to suffer through it and remain as silent as possible, but she obviously released some sort of quiet, distressed noise, because seconds later, Shado was kneeling in between her and Oliver.

“Felicity, this pose isn’t for you,” Shado whispered. “Roll over to your dominant side and curl into a ball. Keep your eyes open if it helps as well. Don’t strain yourself… listen to your nervous system and do what feels right for you personally.”

Doing as the other witch said, Felicity turned over towards Oliver, raising her knees to her chest and propping her chin on top of them. Shado patted her lightly on the shoulder before leaving to lower the lights, creating a dim, eerie glow through the room.

Felicity shifted minutely in place until she was comfortable and fixed her tired, dazed gaze onto the vampire next to her. Lying utterly still and barely breathing, Oliver appeared dead. There was something strange about his appearance when he was so still like this, something old, exhausted and ancient, even though he only looked several years older than her. Growing slightly worried, the witch counted between each of his breathes. She reached two hundred in her head before Oliver inhaled deeply, and he didn’t exhale for at least several minutes afterward. Felicity’s eyes flickered up from his chest to his face, wondering about what it would feel like to rub her fingertips over his stubble and trace the faint frown lines on his forehead. When she realized what she was thinking about, she groaned internally and squeezed her eyes shut. No, what was she doing? She put her fascination about his looks down to her interest in his past, as a professional historian.

Finally, Shado announced that the class was ending, and it was time to traverse back into the outside world. Some of the creatures immediately sprung to their feet, whispering and greeting each other as they said goodbye and left. The rest of the class got up slowly, enjoying the calm environment. Felicity stayed in her curled up position as Oliver’s eyes fluttered open lazily and he rotated so he was also lying on his side and staring at her. His face softened, a tender smile ticking at his lips. Suppressing her shiver as the vampire extended his arm to stroke a stray lock of blonde hair from her face, where it was obscuring her vision, Felicity heaved herself up to a sitting position.

Instantly, the witch swayed, the room spinning while blood rushed to her head. Oliver shot up and reached out to steady her. “Easy,” he murmured.

“Sorry,” Felicity exhaled. “I’m okay.”

She shifted her to knees so she could bend over and drop her head to the floor, but ended up dropping too fast due to her physical weakness. Arms wrapped around her waist, halting her descent. Her sharp inhalation resulted in a wave of cedar wood, salt and cacao swamping her senses, and when she glanced over her shoulder, she met worried cobalt eyes that completely enthralled her.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“Hi,” she echoed.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Oliver asked.

“Just a little light-headed.”

“Let’s sit back down,” he suggested.

The two of them collapsed back down onto their mats next to each other, shoulders touching. There was movement around them as the creatures exited the room; they had to file past the daemon and witch to get to the door. Some of the daemons made eye contact, glancing at them meaningfully and smirking. While the vampires refused to look at Felicity, almost every single one of them said goodbye to Oliver. The witches looked between the pair disapprovingly but didn’t say anything. After five minutes or so, only Felicity, Oliver and Shado were left in the hall.

The yoga instructor picked up her rolled up mat and bag before padding over to them. “Very good practice today, Felicity,” she praised.

“Thank you, Shado. This was definitely the best class I’ve ever attended.”

“I’m happy to hear that. You’re welcome to return anytime. With or without Oliver,” she added. Shooting the vampire a slightly reproaching look, she scolded, “You should have warned her about the nature of the class.”

“I didn’t think that Felicity would come if I told her,” he confessed, sounding weirdly insecure. “I knew that she would enjoy it, if she gave it a chance.” His eyes danced over to Felicity. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I did,” she said, nodding.

Oliver’s face split into a beaming grin. “I’m glad.”

Shado was at the door before either of them could say anything more to her. “Turn the lights off and lock up when you leave, will you, Oliver?” she called.

“Will do,” he replied, waving.

Once the two of them were alone, Felicity stood; the dizzying revolutions of the room had stopped. She allowed herself to take in the entirety of the great hall they were in, with its huge bay windows, chandeliers and arched ceiling. Oliver knelt down to roll up both of their mats, fitting the straps on and picking up their two water bottles, but Felicity could tell he was still watching her by the trickle of dancing snowflakes against her back and shoulder blades.

“This was a surprise,” Felicity said dryly. She wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook for shocking her yet. A ‘mixed class’... maybe she should have been more suspicious?

“I apologized before,” he said, approaching her from behind swiftly. “Would you like me to apologize again?”

She whipped around to find him standing disconcertingly close to her and had to crane her neck back to met his eyes shyly. “You don’t have to. It was… a pleasant surprise, in the end.”

They slid their shoes back on and collected their bags. Oliver ducked back inside the hall to switch off the lights and lock the door, before insisting on carrying her belongings for her. Swinging his keys around his forefinger, he questioned, “Could I possibly interest you in some tea before we head back to Oxford? There’s no coffee. Sorry. But the tea is excellent.”

“Where?”

“The gatehouse.”

“Is there some kind of cafe there?” Felicity asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No, but there’s a rather lovely kitchen and lounge.”

The witch blinked in shock. “Oliver… is this _your house_?”

“Yes,” he admitted. Taking her hand, he led her out of the main house, walking her down to the courtyard. “I built it.”

Felicity glanced back up at the mansion in astonishment - and her amazement only grew. There was a keystone over the stone archway leading off to a section of gardens beside the house. It said 1536.

Oliver Queen was at least five hundred years old.

“Henry gave me the land. Spoils of the Reformation, you see. The only condition was that I tear down the Abbey that was here and start over,” the vampire continued to explain. Oliver was talking about _Henry the Eighth_. He’d KNOWN Henry the Eighth!? “I saved as much as I could, but it different to get away with a lot. Henry really was in an awful mood that year. There are one or two angels in the gardens, and some of the stonework foundations of the building were from the Abbey… I couldn’t bear destroying all of it. Other than that, it’s all new construction.”

Oliver was talking about a house that he’d built in the early sixteenth century as _new_. Felicity fought off a hysterical laugh. She attempted to see the mansion through Oliver’s eyes, rather than her own as a historian. This was the home he had built, the house he’d wanted to live in five hundred or so years ago. She almost felt as if she was learning more about him by observing its architecture. It was tall, quiet and still, similar to his own disposition. There was a hidden charm to it; while the outside looked worn and slightly ragged, the inside was impeccable and well-preserved. Its elegant grace was protected and shielded from the outside world.

“Your house is beautiful,” she said simply.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “But I don’t really live it in anymore. It’s… too big. Not to mention too fragile. Every time I open a window or door, something falls off its hinges. Over the years, it’s been carefully maintained, but it’s just so old now that things are bound to just break. I let Shado open the lower floor and hall up for her yoga sessions during the week, but the house remains empty, otherwise.”

“Where do you live then?” Felicity asked, as they strode over the cobbles and gravel back to the car.

“In the gatehouse,” he shrugged. “Part of the time, that is. I stay in Oxford during the week so I can get to and from the labs and hospital quickly, but I come down here at the weekends. It’s a lot quieter. It’s a bit of a challenge living in a city surrounded by noisy undergraduate students whose inappropriate and disrespectful conversations I can’t help but overhear.”

“The hardships of working in a university town,” Felicity laughed.

He unlocked the Jaguar and opened up the passenger door for the witch before she could protest. “So is that a yes to tea in the gatehouse?”

“That is indeed a yes.”

Oliver grinned, blue eyes shining and Felicity swore her heart _stopped_ for a second at how exquisite and attracted he appeared in that moment. “Wonderful.”

This vampire might be the death of her.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with chapter 7! Thanks for all your wonderful comments and messages, they've really been motivating me to write faster. Hope you enjoy!

Oliver and Felicity drove the Jaguar the short distance through the open field and forest from the dark-windowed mansion, back down to the gatehouse. Lamps hanging either side of the wooden door had switched on due to a timer, glowing brightly. As the Old Lodge’s public face in the past, the gatehouse was much more decorated on the outside, with stone ornamentation and embellishments. One of the stone angels Oliver had mentioned he’d saved from the Abbey was the centerpiece of a small fountain by the entranceway. Felicity hopped out of the car, raising her gaze to the twisted chimneys on top of the house’s elaborately patterned roof.

“Interesting chimneys,” she commented.

Oliver snorted. “They were a mistake. The stonemason was desperate to experiment with a new ‘style’. He kept on saying his cousin helped design Hampton Court Palace for Thomas Wolsey in 1515, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Felicity protested. “They’re somewhat charming.”

The vampire shot her an affectionate look. “You would say that, as a historian.”

“Historian of alchemy,” she reminded. “I can appreciate nice architecture of old buildings as just a normal person.”

Unlocking the door, Oliver flipped the light switch inside the gatehouse, bathing the cozy space inside in a soft golden glow. It had an old flagstone floor and a huge central fireplace, surrounded by a couple of patchwork armchairs set upon a colorful Persian carpet. There was a small but sleek, modern kitchen in the corner, which Oliver approached to put the kettle on and begin fishing mugs out of the cupboards. As Felicity wandered inside, closing the door behind her, she shivered at the dry, freezing air, wanting to reach inside her bag for her sweater. The old windows weren’t very well insulated, so the night’s chilly breeze was leaking through the cracks and blowing around the room.

Glancing back to check on her, Oliver tilted his head observingly. “Are you cold?”

“A little bit,” she admitted. “You can tell?”

“Your heart rate has increased,” he informed her. “Low temperatures cause your blood vessels and arteries to narrow to minimize heat loss, restricting blood flow and oxygen available to your respiring tissues. That, in turn, increases the pressure - and your heart beats faster.”

Snickering, she replied, “Thank you for the scientific explanation, Professor Queen.” She gave up on trying to brave the cold and pulled her sweater out, shrugging it on and snuggling into it.

“You’re welcome, Dr Smoak. You can light the fire, if you’d like.”

That sounded like a great idea, so Felicity knelt down, drawing a match from an antique pewter tankard to set the twigs and kindling stuffed inside the fireplace grate alight. Once the flames were licking heartily at the larger logs, casting a warm, dancing orange and yellow light over her, the witch rose, satisfied. While the vampire continued to make them tea, Felicity walked slowly around the room, admiring the dark polished wooden settings and various beautiful paintings hung up on the walls. She paused when she saw the enormous portrait of a stunning, dark-haired woman in a blue ballgown.

Oliver set a fully outfitted tea tray down on the small walnut coffee table situated in between the armchairs, and strode over to stand behind the witch when he noticed where Felicity’s attention was gathered.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“My sister,” he answered, eyes filled with sadness.

“What’s her name?”

“Her name _was_ Thea.”

The specific tense usage made Felicity almost immediately regret asking. She hated that remorseful look on his face. “What happened to her?”

“She traveled over to Barbados to protest against slavery, but ended up having to invest in the sugar trade herself to avoid attracting the wrong attention. She slowly grew to enjoy plantation life. During one of the island’s rebellions, the other plantation owners found out what she was, and about how she was liberating black slaves behind their backs, inspiring them to rise up and fight for their freedom. They sliced off Thea’s head, cut her body up and burned her. Told everybody else that it was the slaves who had done it.”

Felicity stared, utterly shocked. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, knowing that nothing she could say would be adequate enough in the face of such an awful loss.

Oliver forced himself to smile shakily. “Her death was terrible, but I like to imagine she felt little of it in the end. I loved my sister, even though she didn’t always make it easy. She seemed to absorb every vice of every decade she lived through. In the end, she was still a wonderful woman, and I miss her immensely.” He tore his eyes away from the portrait with difficulty, blinking away his misery as his sorrowful smile transformed into a more genuine, content one. “Would you like to pour the tea?”

Nodding, Felicity perched on the edge of one of the armchairs so she could lean forwards and fill the two mugs on the tray. She was happy to lighten the mood, even though Felicity definitely had enough questions to fill more than one, or even two evenings of conversation. Careful not to spill any of the tea onto the table, she passed Oliver over his cup, imagining he liked his tea black just like his coffee, and then added a sugar cube and a splash of milk to her own. Once it was precisely right, she took a quick drink to test it and then scooted carefully back, folding her legs beneath her as she sank into her armchair cushions. Oliver placed his mug back down onto the tray without even taking a sip.

“You don’t have to for my sake, you know,” Felicity told him.

“I know,” he reassured. “But I actually enjoy tea occasionally. It’s a habit… it’s comforting to go through the motions of brewing and drinking it.”

Tracing her finger around her mug’s rim, the witch hummed under her breath. “When did start practicing yoga?” she asked.

“A long time ago,” Oliver answered mysteriously.

“Which was when?”

“A year or so after Thea left for Barbados, now I come to think of it. I traveled to the East Indies and found myself in Goa, during monsoon season. There wasn’t very much to do when it rained heavily except drink too much and learn about India and its ancient practices. The yoga instructors - yogis - were different back then, more spiritual than most teachers today.”

“And Shado? When did you meet her?”

Oliver glanced away, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I met Shado seven years ago… I was speaking at a biomedical engineering conference in Mumbai, and attended one of her classes the night before in order to calm myself. I knew almost instantly that she had the gifts of the old yogis. She was so welcoming, nonjudgmental and accepting, and she still is today.” A bitter expression passed over his face. “She doesn’t share the concerns that most witches have about fraternizing with vampires.”

“You invited her to come back to England with you?”

“I explained what might be possible here, offered her my help financially and the Old Lodge as a location for her classes. She agreed to give it a try and within less than a month, she’d set herself up nicely. All of her sessions are full to capacity every week and there’s a waiting list. She teaches private lessons as well, although those are mainly to humans. She raises the price for them, though,” he chuckled.

“Was I meant to pay her?” Felicity asked, alarmed and guilty that she had just turned up and taken part without even offering a class fee.

“No, don’t worry,” Oliver shook his head. “She refuses to take money from me, and always allows my colleagues and friends to attend for free when I bring them along. You received her blessing today to join a class whenever you want, by yourself, and still not pay. She must like you. Do you think you’ll come back?”

She nodded. “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable coming alone, though,” she admitted. Mixing with other creatures and delving deeper into the supernatural world she still knew very little about, without any form of support, was a terrifying thought. “I’m not really used to seeing witches, vampires and daemons sharing anything - nevermind a yoga class. If you’d told me it was possible the other day, I would have thought you were joking.”

Finally picking up his mug again, Oliver warmed his hands around it. “Well, Shado is an optimist, and she loves a challenge. She didn’t think it was possible at first either. It started off as a class for vampires, and then she invited some daemons. The vampires refused to be in the same room with them during the early days, but they eventually became less suspicious of one another. Then Shado advertised to the witches, and… well, when they showed up, nobody trusted them, for good reason.” It was hard for Felicity not to frown, offended by his words. She knew that vampires and witches had deep, ingrained prejudices against each other, but Oliver had never seemed to be the kind of vampire who hated witches before. “It’s much better now. We all treat one another with courtesy and respect. Now, most of the creatures in the class accept that we’re more similar than different, especially when compared to the humans.”

“We creatures may all look similar, but we definitely don’t _feel_ similar,” Felicity muttered, taking a large gulp of tea and pulling one of the cushions out from behind her to hug between her knees and her chest.

Oliver appeared confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the way we know that somebody is one of us - how we recognize each other as creatures when looking at each other,” Felicity said. She only grew more bemused when the vampire’s brow furrowed. “The nudges. Tingles. The cold.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Oliver shrugged. “I’m not a witch.”

“Wait. You… can’t do that?” Felicity questioned, blinking in shock. It was only a witch sense, then? She’d thought all creatures had been able to do this sort of thing.

“No.” His eyes flitted over to meet her stunned gaze, guileless and curious. “Can you feel it when I look at you?”

“All the time,” she answered.

He leaned forwards towards her. “What does it feel like?”

“Um…” she swallowed as she peered down intensely into her tea. She was uncertain how much she should divulge. “It feels… cold. All the time, it’s cold. But it changes when you look at me in different ways. When you’re staring at me, it kind of feels like ice growing under my skin. When we’re just… talking, or when your focus is on me for a couple of seconds, it’s like frost spreading over the top of it. When you’re shooting me a passing glance, it feels like snowflakes.”

“That sounds unpleasant,” he replied, sounding troubled.

“It’s not,” she said truthfully. “Sometimes it’s a little strange, but I’ve got used to it. It feels like slight pressure on the back of my neck or a faint breeze that makes my hairs stand on end when it’s a witch looking at me. The daemons are the worst.” A disgusted look passed over her face as she remembered the sensation. “When they look at me, it’s like being kissed.”

That made Oliver laugh. But as he placed his mug back down on the counter again, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice was serious as he stated, “So you do use some of your magic then.”

Felicity’s jaw clicked shut. The mood of the room changed almost instantly, turning tense and cold. She gritted her teeth, turning away furiously. “Dammit, I wish I’d never found Ashmole 782 or tried to get that book off the top shelf. That was only the fifth time I’ve used my powers this year, and that stupid exploding washing machine incident shouldn’t count, because if I hadn’t stopped the water flow, it would have caused a flood and wrecked the apartments downstairs.”

Oliver raised his hands in surrender. “Felicity, I don’t care whether you use magic or not. But I am surprised at how much you do.” He frowned. “Or more accurately, _don’t_.”

Her cheeks were burning, with both embarrassment and rage. “I don’t use magic or power or spells or witchcraft, whatever you want to call it. That is _not_ who I am.”

“Whether you accept it or not, it is who you are. It’s in your bones, and it’s in your blood. You were born a witch. Just as you were born to have blue eyes and blonde hair.”

“I dye it, actually,” she snapped.

Not reacting in the face of her anger, the vampire shook his head with a sigh. “You baffle me, Felicity. You have powerful magic, and yet you avoid it at all costs. Why is that?”

Felicity fixed her gaze to the floor. She’d never been able to explain to anybody her reasons for not wanting to use the magic she’d been born with. Sara and Nyssa had never understood. She knew that Oliver wouldn’t either. She pushed her mug, which now just contained the dredges of cold tea, onto the coffee table, defensively coiling her body into a tighter ball. She didn’t like the scrutiny she was placed under by Oliver now.

“I don’t want magic,” she finally said quietly. “I never asked for it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Oliver asked. He wasn’t being condescending or judgemental - he just seemed genuinely perplexed. “You were glad of Shado’s power of empathy tonight. That makes up a large part of her magic. You responded to that happily, I saw you. It’s no better or worse to have the abilities of a witch than it is to have the talent to write novels, or dance, or learn music. It’s just different.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be different,” she responded. “Maybe I just want a simple, ordinary life… like humans enjoy. A life that doesn’t involve danger, constant vigilance, and fear of being discovered. You must wish you were normal sometimes.”

“Felicity, I’m telling you as a scientist that there is no such thing as ‘normal’. ‘Normal’ is a bedtime story that humans tell themselves to feel better when they’re confronted with overwhelming evidence that most of what’s happening around them is out of their control and not ordinary at all.”

The witch released an annoyed sound under her breath, refusing to meet his eyes. She knew there was some truth to what Oliver was saying, but nothing he could tell her would shake her conviction that it was far too perilous to exist as a creature in the world that existed today - a world dominated by humans, who would stomp out any unusual and exceptional life they came across.

“Felicity, please look at me,” Oliver said softly.

Against all her instincts, she did.

The vampire’s blue eyes were shining with sympathy, but had a stony burn to them that caused the witch to shiver. “You’re trying to push away your magic,” he said. “It’s not going to work. You said your dye your hair blonde… but you know that eventually the dye fades and the real color is revealed every now and again. It’s the same as your magic. You can try and cast it aside, cover it up and hide it as much as you want, but it’s always going to be there. Your magic is not something you can get rid of. It’s part of your life.”

“Exactly. This is my life and I can control my life.”

“You can’t control your magic. You proved that to me the first day we met.”

“It was an accident -”

“Yes, an accident. It was unrestrained, unruly power bursting out of you. It lies inside of you, calling for you to learn how to control it, but you refuse to.” Oliver’s gaze hardened. “Felicity, if you’re not careful, you are going to ruin your life trying to resist the lure of magic. You’re a witch. If you don’t accept who you are and what you can do, it will eventually destroy you.”

Felicity felt nothing but fear staring at the vampire now. Panic started to worm its way into her thoughts, yanking her away from the present and away from Oliver. He was charming, and chivalrous, and he made it seem as if you could exist as a creature without any concerns or repercussions. But he was a vampire, she reminded herself. Despite how kind and friendly he’d been towards her, helpful in protecting her against the other creatures… he couldn’t be entirely trusted. He was wrong about magic, about _her_ magic; he had to be.

What he was saying about being helpless to resist the call of power… it couldn’t be true, because if it was, then it meant that Felicity’s entire life had been a fruitless, ridiculous fight against an imaginary enemy that was far stronger than she could ever be. It was her own fault that she was afraid. She’d allowed magic and the world of the supernatural into her life briefly, against her own rules, and now she was lost within it. A vampire she couldn’t help but feel something for, that made her vulnerable, had crept in. Dozens of creatures who had threatened and intimidated and frightened her had followed along behind Oliver.

“Living without magic is the only way I know how to survive,” she whispered.

“You’re living a lie,” he replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “An unconvincing one. You think that you can pass as a human, but you’re not fooling anybody except yourself. I see the way that they watch you. The humans know that you’re different from them.”

“That’s not true,” Felicity argued.

“Curtis, and the other humans who work in the Libraries, they’re all your admirers. I can smell them start sweating more when you enter the room; you make them nervous. They worry when they have to tell you that you might have to sit in another seat, or a manuscript is unavailable. And it’s not just the humans. The male witch who was harassing you the other day, you scared him to death with whatever you did to make him leave you alone. I watched him flee the Bodleian like he had wolves biting at his heels.”

“You frightened him, not me. He left because you were protecting me.”

“If he’d been scared of me, he wouldn’t have approached us in the first place,” Oliver said dryly. “I assure you, it was your power and not mine that startled him.”

She’d had enough of him. “We live in a human world, Oliver,” she hissed. “This is not some fairy tale. Humans outnumber us and they fear us. There’s nothing more powerful than human fear. Not magic, not vampire strength, not daemon influence. Nothing.”

“Fear and denial are what humans do best, but it’s not a way that’s open to a witch.”

Hearing what he was implying, that she was scared, Felicity glared directly at him unflinchingly. “I am _not_ afraid.”

Oliver smiled at her. It was almost pitying. “Yes, you are.” He rose to his feet, picking up the tea tree to take it back into the kitchen. “I think it’s time I took you back to Oxford.”

The conversation was over, and Felicity hadn’t even managed to ask him any of the questions she’d planned to about the bewitched manuscript. She watched him as he washed and dried the two mugs and teapot, storing them back in the cupboard. As the vampire swiped up his keys from the counter, Felicity lashed out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. The look on Oliver’s face let her know that he’d anticipated the movement - and the only reason she was holding his arm right now was because he was letting her.

“Look,” she said. “We’re both interested in Ashmole 782. Me, because I have no idea what it is and why everybody is so desperate to find it, and you… well, I still have no idea why you’re interested in it, because you still refuse to tell me. I called you my friend at breakfast yesterday and even though social protocol dictates that a witch and a vampire can’t be friends, my statement still stands. We should be able to work together.”

Oliver said nothing.

He was staring down at her hand, wrapped around his wrist.

“Well?” she prompted impatiently.

“You need to let go of my wrist and back away from me,” he said quietly. “I can smell your agitation right now and it is… very distracting.”

Felicity’s heart leaped into her throat. This wasn’t going to end up being a repeat of the night where he’d confronted her at the boathouse, was it? She slowly released his arm and took a careful step back. She didn’t realize Oliver had been holding his breath, but when released it, it was in a short, strained exhale. He didn’t breathe back in. He probably didn’t want to inhale too much of her scent.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Oliver didn’t acknowledge her apology. “I’m going to take you back home.”

The ride back to Oxford in the Jaguar was silent and awkward. Oliver seemed to sit as far away from her as possible in his seat and kept his eyes fixed to the road. He’d shuttered himself off from her. Whatever progress they’d made in getting closer on a personal level had come to an abrupt halt. Felicity watched the vampire cautiously, chewing on her lip every time his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped. She barely saw Oliver breathe. When she began shivering due to the cold, he turned up the heating so high that Felicity was forced to take off her sweater and shove it down into the footwell.

Humans had it all wrong when it came to vampires, she decided. Humans were frightened of vampires because they thought that they were bloodthirsty. It was Oliver’s secrecy and darkness, combined with his fleeting flashes of anger and sudden, brusque coldness when addressing something that bothered him, that scared Felicity. He could be so soft and warm-hearted one moment, and then fearsome, distant and calculating the next.

When they arrived at New College, Oliver was already standing in front of her with her bag and yoga mat as she clambered out the car.

“Have a good weekend,” he said.

She hated it when he was so impassive. She tried to think back to when his mood had swung, to figure out what she’d done wrong. He’d began withdrawing before she’d brought up Ashmole 782, although the mention of the manuscript had most likely solidified his glacial attitude. No, it was her denial of her magic that had started to anger him, loading the gun. Bringing up the book and then touching him had been the trigger.

“Thank you for taking me to yoga,” she replied, hoping to make him smile.

Oliver glanced away.

Irritated by his lack of response, Felicity tucked her mat under her arm and bag over her shoulder. Her voice as dispassionate as his, she said shortly, “Goodnight, Oliver,” turning towards the building.

“Goodnight, Felicity,” she heard him say faintly behind her.

The witch resolutely refused to look back towards him as she walked away. Oliver’s freezing stare followed her, his eyes remaining cold on her back and shoulders until she turned the corner and he couldn’t watch her any longer.

She had the strangest feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing the vampire again for quite a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be in Oliver's POV!


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back, with a chapter in oliver's pov!!! definitely going to be writing some more of these in the future, it was really fun.
> 
> thank you for all your support - hope you enjoy!

The black Jaguar soared over the River Avon across a high arched, narrow bridge. Its rumbling engine echoing off the Lanarkshire landscape of craggy rock outcrops, sparse heather and rolling hills. Despite the harsh environment (little about this part of Scotland was inviting or soft), Oliver felt somewhat at home here. The countryside’s forbidding beauty fit his current melancholic mood. Slowing the car down, he drove carefully down through the lime alley that had once led to a grand palace, and now trailed to the middle of nowhere.

Nestled between two of the larger hills was an old hunting lodge, made of rough old stone with ivy and rose twine lining the large white door. Pulling up to the back entrance, the vampire parked the Jaguar and clambered out, fetching his bag from the back seat.

“You look like hell.”

Oliver turned to face his best friend with an annoyed look. The daemon standing before him, very tall with broad shoulders and twinkling brown eyes, ran his eyes up and down the vampire in some sort of inspection. Oliver had met John Diggle at Oxford nearly a decade ago. Like most creatures, they’d been taught to fear each other and were wary around each other at first, unsure how to behave. But within weeks, the two had become inseparable, realizing that they shared a similar sense of humor and unrelenting integrity.

“Why are you here?” the vampire sighed.

“‘Hello, John, nice to see you’. Good to see you too, Oliver,” Diggle said sarcastically.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Oliver replied with a huff, dropping his bags by the door. Peering through the open door, he drank in the lodge’s pleasant aging timber smell, that paired well with Diggle’s unique aroma of gun oil and pine ash. He sniffed, letting it sit at the back of his throat; he was desperate to get the alluring scent of the Felicity Smoak out of his nose.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Oliver stepped past the daemon into the house, heading to the downstairs hall. “You didn’t have to come,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I know,” Diggle shrugged. “But I didn’t mind. It’s good to get out of London. Lyla’s busy with running MI5; I needed a quiet weekend, and Cadzow is beautiful this time of year.?”

Pausing mid-stride, the vampire stared at him incredulously. He knew exactly why Diggle had decided to come down the moment Oliver had called saying he was going to take a few days away from his research, up in Scotland. He turned away and walked further into the lodge, running his fingers along the walls and inhaling sharply.

“I can hunt by myself.”

Diggle shook his head. “Christ, Oliver. You’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice clipped.

“Do we have time to get a quick drink first, or do you need to get straight out there?”

The vampire shot his friend a glare. “I believe I can manage a drink. I haven’t attacked anybody thus far, have I?”

“Great. I’ve got a bottle of wine for you and some whiskey for me.” This wasn’t atypical. Diggle often kept wine around for Oliver whenever they met up, as he didn’t like to drink alone, but the vampire didn’t like the taste of more intense spirits. “Then you can tell me why you have such an urgent need to go hunting this weekend.”

Diggle guided Oliver across the shining wooden floors and upstairs to the library. It was a cozy room with warm brown paneling and the occasional classic painting. All of the books packing the shelves were from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, with a light coating of dust on each of them. The pair of creatures sat down in the leather chairs that flanked the small fireplace, where a crackling blaze was already taking the edge of the Scottish autumn chill. Diggle picked up a bottle of wine from the table in the corner covered in alcohol, showing it to Oliver. The vampire released an appreciative noise and enjoyed the calming, intense scent of the wine as the daemon poured.

“I’m sorry to drag you into all of this,” Oliver sighed, taking the glass and raising it to his lips with a hum. He watched as Diggle pulled the stopper from his whiskey decanter and measured a generous helping of the golden liquid. “I’m in a difficult situation at the moment. It’s… complicated.”

Diggle chuckled. “It always is, Oliver. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you.”

The vampire glanced away and he couldn’t help the smile that ticked at his lips. Oliver had been drawn to Diggle because of his directness, and also because he was levelheaded, smart and difficult to unsettle. Over the years, a number of Oliver’s friends had been daemons, but Diggle was by far his closest. Time with Diggle consisted on comfortable stretches of silence, quick-witted conversation and moments of unparalleled kinship. Unlike most daemons, who pursued careers of art, music, and writing, Diggle had a gift for security and vigilance. He’d turned his natural daemon creativity towards spotting fatal weaknesses in the UK government, working as a high-powered and very well paid intelligence official. This fascinated Oliver to no end, as did Diggle’s ease among humans. The daemon loved being around them and found their faults stimulating, rather than aggravating. His wife, an unflappable, courageous and strong woman called Lyla who coordinated with him in government security, was human herself.

“Oliver.”

Blinking back to the present, the vampire frowned at his friend.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Diggle reminded.

Oliver sat forwards slightly, cradling his wineglass lightly between his fingers. He swirled the dark crimson within it, admiring the glint caused by the firelight. “I don’t know where to begin,” he admitted.

“At the end, of course. Why did you pick up the phone and call me?”

Oliver ran the trembling fingers of one hand through his hair in agitation. “I needed to get away from a witch. I’m… craving her.”

“What makes this witch so special?” the daemon raised an eyebrow.

Exhaling shakily, Oliver answered, “Everything.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Diggle looked both amused and sympathetic, seemingly realizing what the vampire was implying with his single word response. “Whoa. You are in trouble, aren’t you?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Does this witch of yours have a name?”

“She’s not _mine._ ” Oliver swallowed. “Her name is Felicity. She’s American. A historian.”

“Felicity… meaning happiness, and eloquence,” Diggle said slowly. “I’m guessing she’s not an ordinary witch?”

“She is nowhere near ordinary.”

“This is where the complications come in, I presume.”

Nodding, the vampire informed him, “She’s a Smoak.” He waited for Diggle to react. He’d learned that it was never a good idea to anticipate that the daemon wouldn’t grasp the importance of a reference, no matter how vague.

Diggle paused, mid-swig of whiskey. “As in Smoke, from Salem, Massachusetts?”

“Different spelling, but the same family, yes. Felicity is the last of the Smoak witches. Her father is a Kuttler.”

The daemon whistled in admiration. “So a witch twice over, with a very distinguished magical lineage. Does she know the significance of her heritage?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“You never do things by half, do you? She must be powerful.”

“She claims that she doesn’t use magic, at least, not purposefully,” Oliver shrugged.

His brow creasing disbelievingly, Diggle asked, “What, not for _anything_? Finding a lost earring? Fixing a tear in a dress? I don’t know, creating an infinite supply of make-up?”

Oliver laughed quietly under his breath. “She’s not the earrings, dress and make-up kind of woman. She’s more the five-mile run followed by a couple of hours on the Thames in a dangerously thin boat while it’s raining type.”

“With her magical background, I find it extremely hard to believe that she never uses any of her power.” Diggle crossed his arms over his chest, whiskey glass balanced carefully in his hand. “And you don’t believe it either, or you wouldn’t be suggesting that she’s lying.”

Oliver clenched his jaw in frustration, taking a large gulp of wine to finish the glass before casting it aside. “Felicity says that she only uses magic occasionally, for little things, and accidentally. But I’ve been watching her, and she uses it far more than that. I can smell it.” He tapped his fingers anxiously on his knees. “It’s like an electrical storm about to break, crackling in the air, and it smells almost explosive. It’s always there, just building under her skin. There are times when I can see it too. Felicity shimmers when she’s angry, focused or distressed. Sometimes I think I can even taste it.”

“I’m sorry, she _shimmers_?” Diggle repeated dubiously.

“It’s nothing you would see. You’d need enhanced senses. Although you might be able to distinguish the energy from it. She emits these very faint pulses of light all over. Every creature knows that only the most powerful witches radiate magic like that.” The vampire’s hands balled into tight fists and he shuddered. “Felicity is completely unaware that she’s doing it and she’s oblivious to what it means.”

Diggle observed his friend warily, noticing the tense set of Oliver’s shoulders. He needed to hunt. Draining the last of his whiskey, the daemon set the glass down and stood. “Come on. The Jeep is outside and the deer have been herding relatively close to the lodge lately. If we leave now, we can be back by nightfall.”

“I’ll go out by myself,” Oliver replied curtly. “I’d rather hunt alone.” He didn’t enjoy hunting with warmbloods, a category that included witches, daemons and humans. He normally made an exception for his best friend, but today he wanted to be on his own while he got his craving for Felicity under control.

“You’re not hunting today,” Diggle told him, voice firm. “Today, we’re stalking. You’re going to relax a bit and let loose. It’s not the blood you need, it’s the thrill of the chase. I want you to tell me everything about what’s been going on in Oxford but you need to calm down before that.”

The daemon was just as stubborn as Oliver, so he knew there was no point in arguing. He climbed into the beat-up, green Jeep grimly, not bothering to do up his seatbelt as he kept his gaze searching outside over the moor for any animals. Grinding the gears of the vehicle, Diggle forced the old car to ascend up one of the steeper hills a mile behind the lodge, where the deer usually liked to graze.

“Stop,” Oliver commanded.

He’d spotted a single stag on the next crag, majestic head bent and antlers brushing the ground as he munched on the vegetation. Diggle parked the car and Oliver hopping out silently, creeping to the edge of the dirt road and crouching within the thick grasses there. As much as he was a carnivore, he was also a predator. The vampire was content to sit patiently for the next several hours, watching the stag calculatingly as he considered whether the animal was worth pursuing. Using his extraordinary heightened senses, Oliver was able to track the deer’s movement, figure out its habits and gauge its every response to a snapping trig, change in the wind and bird flying overhead.

He could have waited the entire day if need be. He knew that the crucial moment in which the prey animal would notice the presence of the predator was approaching soon. Once the hunt was afoot, there would be no stopping it until the stag acknowledged it was beaten and surrendered… and Oliver made the kill.

The light was dimming when Diggle announced, “We should head back before it gets dark.”

“Go home without me,” Oliver replied dismissively. He didn’t need the light to see the deer. “I’ll catch up.”

The daemon seemed reluctant to leave, but switched on the Jeep’s engine, starting the car up. “Don’t take too long. Dinner will be at eight in the dining room.”

“Won’t be hungry.”

“You’re famished,” Diggle said sharply. “When was your last real meal?”

“Weeks ago. I can’t remember.”

“Then you’ll be eating tonight.”

“John,” Oliver turned to him. “I _won’t_ be hungry.” He glanced pointedly up at the stag on the crag.

“... Ah. Well, you’re welcome to join me for soup and wine anyway. I’ll see you later. Good hunting.”

The vampire waited until the car had vanished over the crest of the rise behind him, its engine’s roar distant, before switching his attention back to the stag. It was one of the highest ranking males in the herd and he didn’t want to uproot the hierarchy, so Oliver decided to silently prowl around to the other side of the hill, to find the other deer the stag was guarding. He eyed a couple of does near the edge of the large group, but finally focused in on a yearling buck, grazing quite a distance away from the herd. The buck was young and skinny enough that he most likely wouldn’t survive the upcoming winter, but he would make a decent meal for Oliver.

Shifting so he was upwind of the buck, Oliver poised his tense body cautiously, adrenalin building as he prepared himself to run. The buck raised his head quickly when he caught the scent of the vampire wafting up towards him. Predator and prey locked gazes, intelligent blue eyes staring into deep brown orbs.

The buck fled, breaking away from the herd and bolting away over the heather.

A gleeful snarl at the back of his throat, the vampire gave chase.

It was pitch black by the time Oliver returned to the lodge, his bloodthirst quenched and desire to hunt sated, at least for now. The lamps had been turned on outside to illuminate the path. It made him roll his eyes, as he knew Diggle had switched them on for him, despite not needing the light to navigate the moors. It was only seven thirty pm, so the vampire headed up to his usual bedroom to change into fresh clothes (that didn’t have small splashes of crimson over them), noting his bags had been brought up.

The daemon was enjoying a bowl of venison and carrot soup in the dining room when Oliver eventually found him. Another glass of wine had been set out in the place to the right hand of the head of the table, and Oliver slid into the seat. He immediately took a sip of the wine, cleaning his palette of the buck’s blood that he could still slightly taste at the back of his mouth. Diggle didn’t offer him a soup bowl of his own; he knew that Oliver wouldn’t need human food tonight.

“Have you heard about the murders in Westminster recently?” Diggle questioned.

“Yes. I have. Somebody needs to put a stop to it.”

“So you believe they’re vampiric in nature?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they tie into your theory about the vampires dying out?”

Oliver had told Diggle before that he suspected that creatures’ population numbers were declining, but it was hard to prove. “Possibly. I’m not sure. It’s too soon to tell.”

A comfortable silence settled again for a couple of minutes.

“So where did you find your witch?” Diggle asked casually. Seeing how Oliver was more at ease, he wanted them to jump straight back into their conversation from earlier, before they’d gone out into the highlands together.

“The Bodleian,” Oliver answered.

Diggle’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “The Libraries? Since when have you been a regular there?”

The vampire took a long drink of his wine. “Since I overheard rumors some witches were spreading about an American witch who’d got her hands on a long-lost manuscript they suspected to be bespelled.”

“You went looking for her?”

“I was curious.”

“So you just strolled into the Bodleian and struck up a conversation with her?”

Oliver sighed. “Not exactly. I caught her doing some accidental magic. She was… frightened at first, I think, but she met my gaze without flinching. Her eyes are incredible, the wonderful color of the ocean with speckles of grey and green and gold. After a while, she became confused and got angry.” To Diggle’s shock, he smiled fondly. “She smelled so frustrated.”

“Sounds like a reasonable response to being ambushed by a vampire,” the daemon mused. “Have you seen each other much outside of the Libraries?”

The vampire went quiet. “I know you want me to say no.”

“So… you’re interested in her.”

“No, I’m not interested in _her!_ ” Oliver exploded, enraged at his suggestion. “I want the manuscript.” His gaze grew envious and wistful. “ _Dieu_ , I’ve been trying to get my hands on it for more than a hundred years; she just puts in the request slip and it comes up from the stacks within less than ten minutes.”

“What manuscript, Oliver?”

“An alchemical book, one that once belonged to Elias Ashmole. Felicity Smoak is a highly respected historian of alchemy.”

Oliver threw his glass back, downing the wine and storming from the room. He didn’t like how Diggle was pressing him for answers, but he knew his best friend wasn’t going to stop, not until he got out most of his aggravation and relaxed. He heard Diggle groan behind him and mutter to the butler who came to clear the table to bring another bottle of wine up from the cellar. It was going to be a long night. Oliver had a tumbler of whiskey waiting for his best friend when Diggle finally traipsed up to the library.

Standing over the fireplace, the daemon frowned into the flames. “Tell me about this manuscript of Felicity’s. It contains what, exactly?”

“John… it’s Ashmole 782.”

Diggle froze. “You aren’t serious.”

“Do you look like I’m joking?” Oliver replied, his expression dark. “It’s The Book of Life. I know it.” He had his own theories of what the book was about, but most creatures suspected the manuscript was either an ancient, powerful spellbook, a text which contained the secret to immortality, or a primer covering the origins and basic traits of all four humanoid species on Earth. Oliver wasn’t sure about any of those conjectures.

“Do you really think that this alchemical manuscript is _your_ book? You’ve confirmed that it’s Ashmole 782?”

“Felicity told me so herself.”

Bowing his head, Diggle rubbed the back of his neck, visibly shaken. “No wonder the rumors are circulating… how did the other witches discover Felicity had it?”

“Who knows, or cares?” Oliver growled. “The problems started when they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. I wasn’t the only one to overhear them. Other vampires did as well, and then the daemons sensed that something was happening, word spread around and -”

“And now Oxford is crawling with creatures, all interested in Felicity Smoak,” Diggle finished.

The vampire placed his head in his hands. “It gets worse. The manuscript wasn’t simply lost. I think Felicity somehow broke the spell the book was under - if it was even under a spell to begin with; we’ve never been certain about its magical nature. She sent it back to the stacks in the Bodleian. Creatures have been requesting it since hearing about her calling it up, but it has never appeared for them, which suggests the spell hiding it reset. Felicity - she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to summon it again. But I’m not the only one waiting for her to.”

Diggle’s shocked expression transformed into one of concern. “Oliver, are you protecting her from other witches?”

Shrinking in his seat, Oliver rubbed a hand over his face, half covering his mouth. He felt vulnerable all of a sudden and he didn’t like it. “She doesn’t realize how powerful she is. She doesn’t recognize her full potential and she hides her abilities.” Emitting an angry growl, he continued, “She’s living a lie, pretending to be human and ignoring her magic. It puts her at risk. By not accepting her powers, she’s placing herself in danger. If the other witches found out what she can do… I just couldn’t let them get to her first. I can’t let her get hurt.”

“Oh, Oliver,” the daemon’s voice softened. “You shouldn’t interfere between Felicity and her own people. You’ll only cause more trouble. Besides, no witch will be openly hostile towards a Smoak. Her family is too renowned.”

“The witches can’t be trusted. The daemons are disorganized and unstable; the vampires won’t dare to cross me. But the witches are an unknown variable. Their magic is too unpredictable and I’m scared they’ll use it against Felicity. If she refuses to use her own powers, how can she hope to protect herself if I’m not there? I need to make sure she stays safe - so I can get the book.”

Diggle wheeled around, facing his best friend solemnly. “In all honesty, Oliver, I think you should leave Felicity Smoak alone. She won’t get you the book, and besides, if this manuscript is bewitched, you’re not going to be able to examine it. Vampires can’t break spells.”

“I will get the book and I will be able to read it, if she helps me,” Oliver responded.

The daemon grabbed the vampire’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “Listen to me. This is too dangerous a situation. You need to leave Felicity and the manuscript alone.”

Oliver stared back at him, meeting his challenge for a moment, but then eventually averted his eyes. Defeated, he answered, “I don’t think I can, John. Like I said before, I’m craving her.” Even the reminder made his thirst for her spread, focusing and growing insistent. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought about how her blood sang in her veins to him. If he could taste it, he would be satisfied and the painful longing would subside, but that was never going to happen. He wouldn’t hurt Felicity.

“Then the real issue isn’t the witches, or even Felicity. It’s definitely not some ancient manuscript that may or may not hold the answers to all your questions.” Diggle dug his fingers firmly into Oliver’s arm. “You do realize that you’re hunting her?”

Releasing a quiet, ashamed noise, Oliver nodded. “I know. I climbed into her rooms from her window while she was sleeping to watch her. I follow her whenever she goes on a run or rows on the river. I sit across from her in the Libraries just to be close to her. I’ve been asking her to dinner… every time she declines, I just feel more hungry. Her defiance and strength invigorate my thirst.” He brushed the daemon’s hands off his shoulders, standing and beginning to pace agitatedly. “But I don’t need Felicity’s blood. Not physically. I won’t give in to this craving for her and I will not get close to her personally. I… I can’t. I need her help to get Ashmole 782 and that’s it.”

“Is that what you’re trying to convince yourself? Well… even if you just need her help to get the manuscript, you’re still going to have to win her trust. And to do that, you will need to spend time with her,” Diggle said, taking his seat.

“I have been spending time with her. That’s why I’m here. Because I could barely resist the call of hunting her anymore.”

“Oliver, I’m going to ask you this frankly - do you think you’re mating?”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes flickered up, startled and furious. Mating was essentially the creatures’ form of courtship, followed by marriage. A vampire had to desire another creature more than anybody or anything else in order to mate. Cravings were rooted in desire, but his desire for Felicity was nothing to do with mating. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Diggle narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you want this witch for just her power over the manuscript? Or do you really want her for herself, as well?”

“I don’t want her _power_ ,” the vampire snarled.

“But you want Ashmole 782,” the daemon pointed out. “And it’s her magic that can get you it.”

“I - I don’t -” Oliver deflated. “ _Merde_ , I don’t know what I want.”

“I think you do.”

There was a long pause, and the Oliver said quietly, “I want what I shouldn’t want, and I crave somebody I can never have.”

Diggle reared back in realization, astonished. “You’re in love with her.”

Oliver didn’t reply. He stood and strode over to the bay windows, pausing only to pour himself more wine, which he downed instantly. With only an inch worth of dark crimson in his glass, he gazed out into the darkness beyond with a troubled grimace. 

“Are you afraid you might hurt her?”

“Of course I am. She’s a witch - I’m a vampire.”

“You need to think carefully before your next move,” the daemon said. “Maybe ask Dinah to get the book from her - or Roy.”

“Roy?” Oliver uttered a growl. “I don’t want Roy anywhere near Felicity.”

“He’d be much less of a danger to her than you right now. I want to protect you, Oliver. You’re my best friend. You need to step back.”

“I’ll try to take your advice.”

“Don’t just try,” Diggle insisted. “ _Do._ If you hurt her, you would never forgive yourself… and I couldn’t bear it.”

“I have to go back to Oxford. Soon. I have to protect her. But I lack control around her,” Oliver shook his head. “Not just in a physical way. I’m craving her, yes, but… I can’t help but open myself to her, make myself emotionally vulnerable.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” the daemon offered.

The wine glass snapped in two in the vampire’s hands. A pool of red formed on the floorboards by Oliver’s feet, looking remarkably like blood. He ground the powdered glass shards between his index finger and thumb until they sparkled reddish black from the mixture of wine, glass, and blood. The mere thought of losing control around the witch and what might occur because of that, caused a sick, tight sensation to flood his body, from his heart to his abdomen.

“It is when Felicity’s life could be the cost.”


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
> 
> back to felicity's POV! so, so happy to hear you guys enjoyed that chapter in oliver's POV. I will definitely be writing more chapters in his POV in the future.
> 
> as of the moment, I've written up to chapter 14. you can assume updates will occur sundays and wednesdays unless i say otherwise! thank you for all your support xx

Felicity awoke shivering from a horrific nightmare about being trapped in a dark room with no visible floor and no doors. She’d accidentally left the window open a sliver last night, allowing the cold morning breeze to sweep through the room. The wind chill reminded her of how Oliver’s stare had left her shoulders feeling as if they were covered in ice yesterday. The witch swiped her phone from the nightstand to check the time. 13 Missed Calls. All of them were either from Sara or Nyssa, reflecting Sara’s escalating concern about what her sixth sense and Nyssa’s visions were telling them concerning events in Oxford.

It was 4am - definitely too early for Felicity to head out on a run or rowing on the river. She was tempted to jump back into bed and sleep for a couple more hours, but considering that time zones meant it was 11pm in New York, and she knew both Sara and Nyssa would be awake, she decided to call her coven.

“What do you think you’re up to, Felicity?” Sara demanded, the moment the line connected.

“Hello to you too,” she responded dryly. Taking a seat in her armchair, Felicity swung her feet up onto the coffee table, wiggling her fluffy sock-clad toes. This call was going to take a while, she could sense it.

“Don’t be sarcastic with me,” Sara snapped.

“Geez, Sara, calm down. Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Felicity, what’s going on?” Nyssa’s voice sounded.

“Hi, Nyssa.”

Nyssa didn’t bother with pleasantries either. “That vampire you mentioned before,” she said anxious, “Is he bothering you?”

“Not… exactly,” Felicity winced.

“We know you’ve been spending time with vampires and daemons,” Sara cut in, before she could start explaining. “Have you gone insane!? Or is something seriously wrong? You have to tell us these things!”

Sighing, Felicity began picking at the stray strands of her hair absentmindedly. “I am not going insane and nothing is wrong.” The last part was a bit of a lie, but she crossed her fingers and hoped they wouldn’t call her out for it.

“Do you really think you can fool us? You can’t lie to another witch!” Sara groaned. “Start talking, Felicity.”

“Let her speak, Sara,” Nyssa said calmly. “We trust Felicity to make the right choices, remember? She can make her own decisions.” Sara grumbled unhappily down the line; obviously this was a matter of controversy. “Where were you last night, Felicity?” Nyssa continued.

“I was at a yoga class,” she replied. It was entirely the truth, albeit a drastic simplification. If there was no way of squirming out of this interrogation, it was to her advantage to keep all of her responses short and to the point.

“Why are you doing yoga with creatures?” Sara asked, incredulous. “You know it’s dangerous to mix with vampires and daemons!”

“Hey, the class was lead by a witch,” she tried to defend herself.

“But let me guess - it was that vampire’s idea.”

Felicity bit her lip. “Oliver did suggest the class, yes. It was at his house.”

“ _Oliver?_ She’s calling that vampire by his first name now?” she heard Sara shout in indignance at the same time Nyssa commented, “Yes, I thought it might be him. I had a vision the other day, where I saw a vampire standing between you and… something. I’m not sure what, exactly.”

“Nyssa, that’s ridiculous. Vampires do not protect witches,” Sara huffed.

“Yeah, well… this one does,” Felicity said.

“What?” both the witches exclaimed.

“He has been for days now,” she admitted. It was time to come completely clean. “Look, something happened at the Bodleian. I called up a manuscript for my research and it turned out that it was bewitched. And before you ask, no, it was not a grimoire. It wasn’t any kind of spell book. All that was visible were alchemical illustrations. I think somebody’s put an enchantment on its text. There were faint lines of writing, layers upon layers of them, moving underneath the surface of the pages.”

There was a beat of silence and then Sara questioned sharply, “When did you discover this book? Before or after Oliver Queen appeared?”

“Before.”

Sara did nothing to disguise the fury in her voice when she answered, “And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning when you told us you’d met a vampire!? Fucking hell, Felicity, for somebody who’s a genius, you can be remarkably reckless. How was this book bewitched? Don’t tell us you don’t know.”

“It smelled funny and it felt wrong. At first, I couldn’t lift its cover, but when I put my hand over it and asked it to open in my head... the manuscript sort of sighed, and then relaxed.” She turned her hand over on her lap, frowning down at her palm as she recalled the sense of instant recognition between her and the book. She half expected to see the strange magic shimmer that Oliver had mentioned. “The atmosphere in the room changed. The floor trembled and the air felt really heavy.”

“The manuscript was under a spell, that much is obvious, but how did you manage to unravel it?” Nyssa questioned curiously. “Did you say any words? What were you thinking, other than asking it to open?”

“There wasn’t any witchcraft involved. I needed to look at the book for my research, I laid my palm flat on it and wished for it to open up, and it did. That’s all. Once I had it open, I took a couple of notes until the weird vibes started coming off it, then I closed it up and returned it.”

“ _YOU RETURNED IT!?_ ” There was a loud clatter as Sara dropped the phone and it hit the floor. Felicity held her own phone as far away from her ear as possible, flinching. Sara’s colorful swearing and cursing was still audible. “Jesus fucking Christ, Felicity Smoak, how could you send back a magical object you didn’t fully understand? You know better!”

“What was I supposed to do, Sara?” Felicity retorted. She’d been taught by the other two witches to avoid touching or moving unknown enchanted objects until working out how their magic worked, but by the time she’d worked out that Ashmole 782 was bewitched, it had been too late. “Refuse to leave the Bod until you could fly over from America and examine it? I had to hand it back in, I didn’t have any choice.”

“What happened when you returned it?”

“Nothing, really. The Library might have given the impression it shrank for just a moment and I felt a spark against my fingertips, but that was it.”

Nyssa emitted a soft noise. “You sent the manuscript back and the spell reactivated. Very, very few witches are skilled enough to set up an enchantment that automatically resets when it’s broken… you’re not dealing with an amateur. This book must be powerful.”

“You’re right, it must be.” Felicity blinked in realization, finally understanding something. “Wait, _that_ must have been the energy that the witches noticed, what drew the creatures to Oxford. It wasn’t my opening the manuscript, it was the resetting of the spell.”

“You mean the creatures aren’t just in your yoga class?” Nyssa questioned urgently.

“No… I’m surrounded by vampires, daemons, and witches in the Libraries. The day after I found the book, a hoard of creatures arrived in the Bodleian. Oliver arrived that day as well, but in the evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the manuscript after he heard some witches spreading rumors about it. Creatures have been stalking me ever since.”

“There must be witches you can rely on for help. Alena, perhaps,” Nyssa suggested.

“I don’t trust Alena,” Felicity shook her head. “And there are other witches, but they’re not very friendly. There was this male witch who tried to force his way into my head, caused me to develop this awful headache. He would have succeeded too, if I hadn’t shoved him out, and Oliver hadn’t stepped in.”

“The vampire put himself between you and another witch?” Sara sounded utterly horrified. “Shit, Felicity, what have you got yourself into? You never interfere in business between witches if you’re not one of us, Queen knows that! He had no right to involve himself.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed. “Hey, you should be grateful! If Oliver hadn’t been there to help me, I don’t know what would have happened. No witch has ever been so… invasive with me before.”

Nyssa hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you should get out of Oxford for a while.”

“I’m not running away. I’m not going to leave because there’s some witch with no manners in town. I’m hoping that once the creatures figure out I don’t have the manuscript and won’t be getting it back, they’ll lose interest in me. Besides, I have Oliver keeping an eye on me. I’m safe with him.”

“He can’t be with you every minute of the day, sweetheart,” Nyssa said, exasperated.

“Well, I don’t need Oliver to act as my twenty-four-hour bodyguard. I can take care of myself.”

“Felicity, that vampire is not protecting you out of the goodness of his own heart,” Sara argued. “You represent something he _wants_. You have to figure out what.”

“Maybe he is interested in alchemy,” she said weakly. “Maybe he’s just… I don’t know, bored?”

“Vampires don’t get bored,” Sara replied. “Not when there’s a witch’s blood around.”

“Oliver doesn’t -”

“- want your blood? Yeah, not yet he doesn’t.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity switched the phone to her other ear. There was nothing she could say to convince Sara to leave her prejudices against vampires behind. For a brief second, she was tempted to tell Sara and Nyssa about breakfast and yoga class, and even the time they’d spent together afterward having tea together, before it went sideways. But then she realized there would be no point. Sara and Nyssa would just freak out on her.

“Oliver Queen is keeping me at a distance at the moment and I don’t think he’s going to get any closer. You don’t need to worry about me messing around with any more bewitched manuscripts. And I’m not leaving Oxford. That’s final.”

Sara released an annoyed noise, but responded, “All right, fine. But there’s not much Nyssa and I can do from here if things go wrong. The next time you get handed something magical, whether you expected it or not, behave like the witch you are, not like some silly human. Don’t ignore it or tell yourself you’re imagining things. Treat it with respect and ask Nyssa and me for help if you don’t know what to do.”

“I promise I will,” Felicity said quickly, wanting to get off the phone at this point.

Sara wasn’t done though. “I never thought I’d ever see the day where a witch relied on a vampire for protection, rather than their own power. This is what happened when you avoid who you are, Felicity. You’ve got a shitstorm on your hands, and it’s all because you thought that you could ignore your heritage. It doesn’t work that way. You’re a Smoak and you need to accept and own that.”

“I have to go.”

“Be careful, Felicity,” Nyssa said. “And be cautious around Oliver Queen.”

Sara’s bitterness and Nyssa’s worry soured the atmosphere in her room long after Felicity had hung up. Considering it was still very early morning, on a Saturday at that, she decided to clamber back into bed and try to sleep for a few more hours. She ended up waking near noon, and spent the afternoon on the river, rowing, trying to relax herself. After poor sleep that night, Felicity’s Sunday morning was unproductive and she spent most of the day out in the markets, picking up some new specialty coffee beans, and then when she returned to her rooms, working through sections of Shado’s yoga routine to work off her adrenalin.

That evening, after brewing some new Brazilian coffee that tasted faintly of toffee, Felicity settled herself at the kitchen table and began reviewing her week. No matter where she started, she found herself returning to her last conversation with Oliver Queen. Had her efforts to stop magic from intruding into her life and work meant nothing? Whenever Felicity reached a block with research, she liked to imagine a gleaming, empty white table and all the evidence she’d collected as a jigsaw puzzle, one that needed to be pieced together.

Imagining the table, the witch gathered her memories and thoughts and scattered everything from the past week onto that table – Ashmole 782, Oliver Queen, the creatures in the Libraries, the rude male witch, her tendency to walk with my eyes closed, how she’d accidentally magicked _Notes and Queries_ from the shelf, and Shado’s yoga class. She switched all the pieces around, trying to form a picture, but there were too many gaps. No matter how hard she tried, no clear image emerged. Sometimes examining a randomly chosen piece of evidence helped Felicity figure out what was most important.

Dragging her imaginary fingers across the table, she drew out a vague shape, expecting to see Ashmole 782. Oliver Queen’s dazzling blue eyes stared back at her. Why was this vampire so important? The puzzle pieces began moving of their own volition, swirling in spontaneous patterns that were too fast to follow. Frustrated, Felicity slammed her imaginary hands on the table. The pieces froze.

Felicity startled, blinking in surprise. Her palms tingled with recognition. This didn’t seem like a puzzle or game she played in her head anymore. This... seemed like magic. And if it was, then she’d been using it for everything; her schoolwork, her college studies, and her research. But there was no room in Felicity’s life for magic. She shut her mind resolutely against the chance that she’d been violating her own rules about no magic without knowing it.

She arrived at the Bodleian on Monday morning, the next day, at her usual time. As Felicity headed up the stairs and rounded the corner near the collection desk to face the Selden End, she braced herself to meet Oliver Queen’s piercing gaze. She was nervous to see him after how their evening in the Old Lodge gatehouse had ended. But Oliver wasn’t there.

Dinah was sitting across from Felicity’s usual seat, reading. “Do you need something?” she asked, glancing up in irritation when the witch approached her.

“Where’s Professor Queen?” she asked.

“Hunting,” Dinah answered, a hard glint in her eyes. “In Scotland.”

Oliver was _hunting?_ Because of her, most likely. She remembered the way Oliver had ordered her to let go of his wrist, and told her that her agitation was distracting. “When will he be back?”

Dinah sighed. She still looked annoyed, but there was a hint of sympathy in her voice when she replied, “I honestly don’t know.”

“I was hoping that he might be able to take me to yoga at the Old Lodge tonight.”

Narrowing her eyes, the female vampire reached down into her back and picked up a ball of black fluff. She tossed it towards Felicity and she grabbed it before it hit the floor. It was revealed to be Felicity’s sweater as she shook it out. “You left that in his car after yoga last time. You should be more careful with your belongings. You’re a witch, Dr Smoak, you should learn how to take care of yourself and stop putting Oliver in this impossible situation.” Dinah looked back down at her book, dismissing her.

Bristling with anger, Felicity walked back to the collection desk to pick up her manuscripts from Curtis, who had been watching their exchange with curiosity and concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, eyeing Dinah with suspicion.

“Fine,” she answered shortly. She couldn’t get Oliver’s voice out of her head, telling her that the Libraries’ staff all admired her.

“No Professor Queen today?”

“Apparently not,” she muttered under her breath.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Curtis repeated, looking worried for her.

“I promise, I’m all right, Curtis.”

Curtis didn’t look like he believed her, but handed over her books and left her to it. Felicity got settled in A4, but she couldn’t concentrate on reading. She could only think about how furious she was with Dinah, and what she’d said to her. Dinah so obviously blamed her for Oliver having to leave to hunt, and while it might be her fault, Felicity did not appreciate her pointing it out.

Her fingers itched, tiny blue sparks crackling from the tips. They created a static energy in the air that made her hair stand on end, and Felicity clenched her hands and hastily sat on top of them, hoping the sparks would stop. Her magic only ever played up like this when her excess adrenalin was combining with her anger. She needed to calm down before she accidentally set the entire Bodleian on fire. Luckily, nobody else had witnessed her mini fireworks display, as there weren’t many people in the Selden End apart from her and Dinah.

“Did you see that?” she whispered, eyeing the female vampire warily.

Dinah looked up from her book, blinking. She appeared confused. She hadn’t seen Felicity’s accidental magic, then. If she hadn’t seen it, then nobody else would have.

When her fingertips cooled, Felicity carefully arranged her manuscripts out on her desk, scrutinizing her hands for further signs of magical activity. The blue sparks had disappeared, and the glow to the pads of her fingers had faded to a silvery grey as the power retreated into herself.

Unsurprisingly, it was difficult to focus on her work. Felicity still had the same manuscript sitting in front of her by lunchtime. A couple more people had arrived while she’d been writing notes - several humans, an unfamiliar daemon, and two vampires that she recognized from watching her last week. Alena was sitting in the corner with four other witches, all of whom were glowering at her, as if she’d let down their entire species. Felicity ignored them all as she packed her bag and grabbed her books.

Dinah was observing her silently.

“I presume you have instructions from Oliver to follow me to lunch,” Felicity said quietly. “Are you coming or not?”

Something akin to a smirk passed over the vampire’s face. “I’m coming.”

The pair of them walked side by side towards the back staircase, but Dinah pointed to the steps on the other side. “We should go down that way instead.”

“What difference does it make?” Felicity asked, puzzled.

Dinah shrugged. “Suit yourself, I guess. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Felicity shot her a weird look, but descended the staircase. One flight down, she realized why Dinah had been trying to tell her to take the other one. As she glanced through the small window in the swinging door that led to the Upper Reading Room, Felicity almost tripped and fell down in her shock. The entire room was full to bursting with creatures.

They’d segregated themselves onto different tables. All of the daemons sat at one long table, and they appeared particularly conspicuous because they just weren’t doing anything. There were no books in front of them and none of them had notebooks or laptops out. A large group of vampires was seated at another table next to the daemons, silent and frozen like statues. Around six witches were gathered together at the opposite side of the room and they had pieces of literature in front of them, but they didn’t seem to be reading. Most of the creatures turned to stare at Felicity as she passed, their eyes cold. Felicity felt like she was being assaulted with nudges, kisses and ice spikes from all sides as they looked at her.

“Shit, no wonder we’re not supposed to mix. No human could ignore this,” Dinah muttered. 

“Is this my fault? What have I done now?” Felicity asked, swallowing.

“Nothing,” Dinah assured her shortly. “It’s just… well, Oliver’s not here.”

“And that means all the creatures come? Why are they so afraid of Oliver?”

Dinah emitted a soft noise of uncertainty. “You’ll have to ask him. Vampires don’t tell tales.”

“If Oliver’s not here, does that mean they might try and approach me?” Felicity’s heart rate had already skyrocketed at the sight of all those creatures collected in one room, but she wasn’t calming down at all. Oliver had been the one to keep a load of the creatures away from her last week so she could study, but if he wasn’t here…

“Don’t worry,” Dinah said. She bared her sharp, white teeth in a smile. “These work perfectly, so you’ve got nothing to fear.”

Strangely enough, that did nothing to reassure the witch. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Felicity rushed down the rest of the stairs, pushing through the throng of tourists outside the Libraries as she power-walked across the street to the nearest cafe. Dinah sat on the same table as her as Felicity forced herself to eat a sandwich and finish a bottle of water, despite not having the appetite for it.

She had an idea. It was a stupid one, but it was still an idea. There was no way she could work in the Libraries much longer if that many creatures were hanging out there. Something needed to be done, and with Oliver in Scotland, Felicity needed to be the one to do it.

Dinah trailed behind Felicity as they entered the Bodleian once again, but once she saw that the witch wasn’t heading back to the Selden End, and was instead striding purposefully towards the Upper Reading Room, she darted forwards and caught Felicity’s wrist. “Felicity. What are you up to?”

“None of your business,” she replied bluntly.

“It is my business if it puts you in danger,” Dinah shook her head. “Oliver told me to protect you while he’s gone. If you’re going to do something stupid, then it’s my job to stop you.”

“I know what I’m doing.” Felicity yanked her wrist out of the female vampire’s grasp.

“No, I really don’t think you do,” she heard Dinah murmur as she walked away.

Felicity located the male witch who had intruded in her mind easily, following the familiar disgusting mental trace he left behind. He was sitting at the front of the Upper Reading Room nearest the steps, on his own table separate from the other witches. Felicity could feel Dinah’s freezing, anxious gaze on her back as she confidently marched up to the witch.

“Are you in charge?” she demanded.

The male witch looked surprised for a moment that she was talking to him, but then he nodded in acknowledgment.

“I’m Dr Felicity Smoak,” Felicity introduced herself, sticking out her hand.

“Malcolm Merlyn. I know very well who you are. You’re Donna Smoak and Noah Kuttler’s daughter.”

The witch touched Felicity’s fingertips lightly with his own, and she suppressed a shudder, casting her gaze down to his desk to examine what Merlyn was reading. There was a nineteenth-century grimoire in front of him, and a stack of reference books at his side. His voice was slightly familiar, though Felicity couldn’t place it. Hearing her parents’ names come out of the mouth of the man who had attempted to mentally attack her was disquieting.

“Please clear your friends out of the library,” she said. “The Undergrad students arrive today, and with this many creatures about, they’re bound to notice us. We shouldn’t scare them.”

“If we could have a quiet word, Dr Smoak, I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.” 

Merlyn attempted to take a step towards her to get nearer, but Felicity backed off quickly. She heard Dinah release a protective snarl behind her. The closer she was to Merlyn, the more danger she felt as if she was in. Her magic prickled ominously under her skin and she shoved back her trepidation just in case her fingertips started sparking again.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Merlyn commented. His expression darkened. “That vampire, Oliver Queen, on the other hand -”

“You think I found something that you want,” Felicity interrupted. “I no longer have it. If you want Ashmole 782, there are request slips on the desk in front of you.”

“You don’t understand the complexity of the situation.”

“No. And I don’t want to know. Please, leave me alone.”

Sweeping his eyes over her face, Merlyn crossed his arms over his chest. “Physically you are very like your mother, but you have some of Noah’s stubbornness as well, I see.” The usual combination of jealousy and vexation that accompanied a witch’s references to her parents or family history washed over Felicity. Merlyn had no right to talk about her mother and father.

“Will you move the other creatures out of the Libraries or not?” she asked impatiently.

“I’ll try,” he said. “But I don’t control those animals.” He waved across the aisle, where the vampires were watching Felicity and Merlyn with interest.

Felicity hesitated, then crossed over to the vampires’ table. “I’m sure you heard our conversation, and you must know I’m under the direct supervision of two vampires already. You’re welcome to stay, if you don’t trust Oliver and Dinah. But please clear the others out of the Bodleian.”

The red-haired female vampire nearest to her grinned, teeth bright despite the dim light of the room. “Witches are hardly ever worth a moment of a vampire’s time, but you are full of surprises today, Felicity Smoak. Challenging Merlyn – a child like you? What a tale we’ll have to tell.” She exchanged looks with her vampire friends. “We’ll speak with the others. As long as there are some vampires here to monitor the manuscript, it should be fine.”

Dragging her gaze away from the vampires, Felicity sidestepped around the tables to head over to the daemons. One of them she recognized from last week. He was nursing a take-out cup of coffee and humming Coldplay under his breath while keeping an eye on her. “Listen, you’re welcome to stay if you’re actually working here, but it’s not necessary for two dozen daemons to be watching me.”

The daemon made an indulgent sound. “You think so, but it is… you’ll know why soon enough.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, Felicity suggested, “Could they watch me from farther away? The Sheldonian? The White Horse? If not, the human readers will start asking questions.”

“We’re not like you,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Daemons aren’t as easily noticed.”

“Does that mean you can’t help or you won’t? Whatever you can do to take some of the pressure off the seats would be greatly appreciated.”

The daemon shrugged. “I’ll talk to the others, but I can’t promise anything. We all want to know about the book.”

As Felicity strode back to the Selden End, Dinah followed behind, staring at her in complete disbelief. “That was incredibly stupid,” the female vampire said quietly.

“Something needed to be done,” the witch told her.

“Oliver is going to flip his shit when I tell him what you did.”

Felicity laughed. “What happened to ‘vampires don’t tell tales’?”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all of your amazing support!! I was blown away last chapter by your responses, and I really appreciate it xxx
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The next morning on Tuesday, the Bodleian Libraries were far less crowded. When Felicity arrived in the Selden End, Dinah was hunched in the corner, scribbling her notes furiously, and the vampire didn’t look up when she entered.

There was still no sign of Oliver. He obviously hadn’t returned from Scotland yet. Even so, all the creatures had retreated from the room and were leaving Felicity alone; Alena was sitting in the medieval wing, crouched over her papyri, as were a couple of the vampires and daemons Felicity had seen yesterday. With the exception of Alena, who seemed to be doing real work, the other creatures were sitting doing nothing, but they looked far less conspicuous considering they were in much smaller groups. 

Felicity stuck her head around the swinging door into the Upper Reading Room curiously after picking up a hot cup of coffee midmorning, to keep her awake and focused until lunchtime. There were barely half a dozen creatures in there. The ginger female vampire and Coldplay-loving daemon were among them. The vampire gave her a small wave, and the daemon winked at her knowingly.

The witch got a reasonable amount of work done, although not enough to make up for the time she’d lost yesterday. Finishing up making notes on her latest manuscript, Felicity gathered up a collection of alchemical poems – the trickiest of texts – to try and study. They were incredibly difficult to interpret. Her research would become exponentially more complicated if she had to connect not only art and science, but art and poetry as well.

“It must be hard to concentrate on your research with vampires stalking you.”

Felicity looked up. “Hi, Alena,” she greeted, but the forced smile was quickly wiped off her face when she saw the other witch’s expression. Alena was standing next to her with her arms crossed over her chest, her hazel eyes glimmering with suppressed malevolence. Immediately, Felicity turned defensive. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“I’m just being friendly, Felicity.”

“‘Friendly’?” she echoed incredulously.

“We’re sisters, remember?”

“I haven’t got any sisters,” she replied, voice sharp. “I’m an only child.”

Alena’s lips twisted into a horrible smirk. “It’s a good thing, too. Your family has caused more than enough trouble. Look at what happened at Salem. It was all Elizabeth Smoke’s fault.”

 _God, here we go again_ , Felicity thought, rolling her eyes as she closed the volume in front of her. As usual, the Smoak family’s history was proving to be an irresistible topic of conversation. It was well-known to all witches across the world that although their surname was slightly different, all the Smoak witches could be traced back to Elizabeth Smoke from Salem’s bloodline. “What are you talking about, Alena?”

“Elizabeth Smoke was found guilty of witchcraft and executed. She didn’t instigate the witch-hunt – she was a victim of it, just like the others. You know that, as does every other witch in this library. She drew human attention, with her provocative clothes and immorality. The human hysteria would have passed if not for her.”

“She was found innocent of practicing witchcraft,” Felicity retorted, bristling.

“In 1680 – but no one believed it. Not after they found the dolls in her cellar wall, pins stuck through them and the heads ripped off. Elizabeth did nothing to protect her fellow witches from falling under suspicion. She was so independent.” Alena’s voice dropped dangerously. “You know, that was your mother’s fatal flaw, too.”

“Stop it,” Felicity snapped, electricity sparking under the skin of her fingers. The air around them was gradually becoming unnaturally cold and clear. “You didn’t even know my parents. You’re younger than me, Alena, stop acting like you knew them personally and have the right to judge them.”

“Your mother and father were stubborn and haughty, just like you,” Alena hissed. “I may not have known them, but the older witches in my coven did, and they’ve told me things. Your parents thought they didn’t need the Cambridge coven’s support after they got married. But they learned when they went to Nigeria, didn’t they?”

Felicity’s eyes slammed shut and she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, but it was impossible to block out the image she’d spent most of her life trying to forget: her mother and father lying dead in the middle of a chalk-marked circle somewhere in Nigeria, their bodies broken and bloody. After taking her in, the witches of the Madison coven wouldn’t share the details of their death at the time, so Felicity had slipped into the public library with the help of Sara and Nyssa, to look them up. That was where she’d first seen the pictures, and the haunting media headlines that accompanied them. Felicity still suffered from terrible nightmares, years later.

“There was nothing the Cambridge coven could do to prevent my parents’ murders,” she responded, her voice steely. She gripped the arms of her chair, hoping that Alena wouldn’t see her white knuckles. “They were killed on another continent, by fearful humans.”

Alena actually laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “It wasn’t humans, Felicity. If it had been, their killers would have been caught and dealt with.” Leaning down, she spat straight into the witch’s face, “Donna Smoak and Noah Kuttler were keeping secrets from other witches. That’s what my coven sisters say. We needed to find out what they were hiding. Their deaths were unfortunate, but necessary. Your father had more power than we ever dreamed.”

“Stop talking about my parents as though they belong to you,” Felicity warned. Her blood was pounding in her ears, creating a deep roaring sound to vibrate through her skull. The atmosphere was now freezing surrounding them. “They were killed by humans.”

“Are you sure?” Alena raised a dry eyebrow, sending a fresh chill into my bones. “As a witch, you’d know if I was lying to you.”

Felicity schooled her expression, determined not to show her confusion. What Alena was saying about her parents couldn’t be true. But there were none of the subtle alarms ringing in her head that typically indicated a lie being told between witches. A spark of anger lit within her, and an overwhelming feeling of contempt swept through her body. Her fingers tingled with blue sparks.

“Think about what happened to Elizabeth Smoke and your parents the next time you consider hiding Ashmole 782 from us,” Alena whispered. Felicity swallowed. The other witch’s lips were so close to her ear that she could feel Alena's warm breath against her skin. “A witch shouldn’t keep secrets from other witches. Bad things happen when they do.”

Alena straightened up and brushed herself down. She stared at Felicity for a few seconds, her gaze increasing Felicity’s discomfort the longer it lasted. Looking down fixedly at the closed manuscript in front of her, Felicity refused to meet her eyes. After Alena left, the air’s temperature returned to normal, and yet she continued to shiver due to the excess adrenalin in her system. When her heart rate finally slowed, and the white noise in her ears abated, Felicity shakily packed up her belongings.

She badly wanted to get back to her rooms, where she could feel safe.

Most of all, Felicity wished Oliver was here.

Dinah snuck up behind her as she was unplugging her laptop. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

Felicity shot her a glare. “Do you think I’m all right?”

“No. You smell scared.”

“Then why even bother asking if I’m okay?” she said, shoving her laptop and cord into her bag. “You could have stepped in there, you know.”

The female vampire watched her quietly. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I am.”

Felicity wasn’t sure how long it would be possible to fend off her panic. She managed to get out of the Libraries without incident, although she could tell that Dinah was trailing behind her, keeping an eye on her. Felicity couldn’t stop thinking about what Alena had been saying and implying. If Alena was right, it was the jealousy of fellow witches that she needed to worry about, not human fear. The mention of her father’s hidden powers had puzzled her slightly; something tugged at the back of her brain, like a concealed memory close to being unveiled, but she left it be, only because of the giant headache now plaguing her.

At New College, Rene flagged down Felicity from the porter’s lodge, jogging towards her with her mail. A thick, cream-colored envelope with a distinctive woven texture was tucked in at the bottom of the pile. It was a note from the warden, summoning Felicity for a drink before dinner. Once she was in her rooms and Dinah had wandered off, Felicity considered calling his secretary and faking an illness to get out of the invitation. Her head was reeling, and there was no way she could keep down any kind of alcohol in her present, anxious state. But New College had welcomed her immediately with open arms when she’d requested a place to stay in Oxford. The least she could do was express her thanks personally. Felicity’s sense of professional obligation began to supplant the agitation stirred up by Alena. She was a scholar just as much as she was a witch by blood.

After changing into a formal knee-length black dress and slightly curling her hair, Felicity made her way to the warden’s lodgings and rang the bell. A member of the college staff opened the door and, upon seeing her, guided her inside and to the parlor room.

“Hello, Dr Smoak.” Walter Steele’s chocolate eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her fondly. Throughout the years of her study at Oxford, Walter had always supported her and become somewhat of a father figure to Felicity.

Soothed by his warmth, she greeted him, “Professor Steele. It’s so wonderful to see you again.” She took his outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. “Thank you for inviting me around.”

“It’s overdue, I’m afraid. I’ve been traveling around Europe for several conferences over the last two months.”

“Yes, the bursar told me.”

“Then you’ve must forgive me for neglecting you for so long,” Walter chuckled. “I hope to make it up to you by introducing you to an old friend of mine, who is in Oxford for a few days. He’s a well-known author and writes about a subject that might interest you - the occult sciences.” Walter stepped aside. Felicity froze in confusion at the sight before her. “Come and meet Malcolm Merlyn,” the warden said, taking her elbow gently. “He’s acquainted with your work and has been looking forward to talking to you.”

Merlyn stood, facing her with a falsely friendly expression. Finally, Felicity recognized what had been eluding her. She’d heard Merlyn’s name being mentioned on the news lately, about the vampire murders in Westminster. He was the expert that Scotland Yard had called in, to examine deaths that had an occult twist. Fingers tingling with static as they approached the male witch, Felicity watched him warily.

“Dr Smoak,” Merlyn said, holding out his hand. “I’ve seen you in the Bodleian.”

“Yes, I believe you have,” she replied stiffly.

She extended her own hand and was relieved to see that it was not emitting little lightning crackles. Felicity attempted to clasp Merlyn’s hand as briefly as possible, but he tightened his grip so she couldn’t let go. His right fingertips flickered slightly, a tiny furl and a release of bones and skin that no human would have noticed, but Felicity did. It reminded her faintly of her childhood; a faint memory from the back of her mind was fished to the surface of her thoughts, a memory of her mother’s hands flickering and furling to produce donuts out of mid-air, and fold laundry without touching it. It was a pre-signal for the casting of a spell, and she braced for an outpouring of hostile magic from Merlyn’s body into her own.

The phone rang.

“Ah, I must get that, I’m afraid,” Walter apologized. “Do sit down. This should only take a moment.”

Felicity sat as far away from Merlyn as possible, perching on a straight-backed wooden chair set in front of Walter’s desk, while the male witch settled down onto one of the armchairs nestled into the corner of the room. Felicity kept her dubious gaze fixed upon Merlyn as they sit in silence, while Walter murmured and sighed down the phone line.

He punched a button on the console and approached her, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “That was the Vice-Chancellor. Two freshmen have gone missing,” he told her, sounding exasperated. “If you don’t mind, I need to step out for a minute. You two chat while I deal with this in my study. Please excuse me.”

Distant doors opened and closed, and muffled, hushed voices conferred in the hall before gradually fading until there was complete silence.

“Missing students?" Felicity said blandly, raising an eyebrow. She wouldn’t put it past Merlyn to magically engineer both the crisis and the phone call that had drawn Walter Steele away.

“It’s unfortunate for the university to misplace two children,” the male witch commented. “But this gives us a chance to talk privately.”

“What do we have to talk about?”

“A great many things.”

“Maybe I don’t particularly wish to speak to you,” she said flatly.

“Whether you wish it or not, there are matters we need to discuss,” Merlyn snapped.

Felicity glanced towards the door, praying for the warden to come back quickly. She hated being alone in this room with the creature who had mentally assaulted her. The worst part of it was that she knew he could do it again. Her guard was up, but there was no chance of feeling safe again this evening.

Noticing where she was looking, Merlyn informed her with a sly smile, “I think Walter will be quite busy until we’re through talking.”

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Merlyn nodded. “Tell me what brought you to Oxford, Dr Smoak.”

She decided that she would answer the man’s questions, if only to get Walter back into the room. But wasn’t going to tell the male witch any more than what was necessary. “Alchemical research for my work.”

Merlyn visibly gritted his teeth. “You must have known that Ashmole 782 was bewitched. No one with even a drop of Smoak blood in her veins could have failed to notice. Why did you send it back?” He obviously wanted the manuscript as much as Oliver did – if not more.

“I was done with it.”

“There was nothing about the manuscript that piqued your interest?”

“Nothing.”

Malcolm Merlyn’s mouth twisted into an ugly expression. He knew that Felicity was lying. She swallowed, trying to dial down her panic. “Have you shared your observations with the vampire?”

“I take it you mean Professor Queen.”

“We all respect your family and what you’ve endured. Nevertheless, questions have been raised about your unorthodox relationship with this creature,” Merlyn said, his voice even but a hint of malice lurking underneath. “You are betraying your ancestral lineage with this self-indulgent behavior. It must stop.”

“Professor Queen is a professional colleague, that’s all,” Felicity replied, wanting to steer the conversation away from her family.

“You are terrible at lying,” Merlyn laughed coldly. “You’re lying to me about what you know about Ashmole 782 and its spell as well.”

“I know nothing about the manuscript. It was in my possession for barely ten minutes. Yes, I knew it was under a spell. But that was immaterial to me, since I’d requested it to study the contents.”

Merlyn leaned forwards, standing, and Felicity shot out of her chair, backing away from him. The glint in the male witch’s eyes was vicious, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Although he didn’t approach her and there were a good five feet of space between them, Felicity still felt as if Merlyn was towering over her.

“That vampire has wanted that book for more than a century,” he hissed. “He can’t be allowed to have it.”

“Why?” Felicity asked angrily.

“Because it belongs to us witches and should not be in the hands of filthy creatures like daemons or vampires.”

“Daemons and vampires can’t enchant objects and can’t break spells. A witch sealed and hid that book with magic, so no daemon or vampire can open and read the manuscript. So what are you worried about?”

“More than you could possibly comprehend, Dr Smoak.”

“I’m confident I can keep up, _Mr_ Merlyn,” she responded scathingly.

Merlyn’s lip curled with displeasure when Felicity emphasized his position outside the academy. Every time the male witch used her title, his formality sounded mocking, as if he were trying to make a point that he was the real expert, and she was an amateur. Being patronized by this rude and disrespectful man was intolerable and Felicity wouldn't stand for it.

“I am disturbed that you – a Smoak – are associating with a vampire.” He held up his hand as Felicity opened her mouth to protest. “Let’s not insult each other with further untruths. Instead of the natural revulsion you should feel for that _monster_ , you feel gratitude.” Felicity seethed silently. She couldn’t argue back, because Merlyn wasn’t lying. She did appreciate Oliver’s protection, and even his company. “I’m concerned, only because we are perilously close to catching human attention.”

She scowled at him. “I tried to get the creatures out of the library.”

“Ah, but it’s not just the library, is it? A vampire is leaving drained, bloodless corpses around Westminster. The creatures within England are restless. We can’t afford to be noticed.”

“I heard your interview on BBC radio,” Felicity said, remembering how she’d had the radio on in the background while cooking last night. She hadn’t recognized Merlyn’s voice on it, but now it was obvious it had been him. “You said there was nothing supernatural about those deaths.”

Merlyn looked incredulous. “You don’t seriously expect me to tell humans everything?”

“I do, actually, when they’re paying you.”

“You’re not only self-indulgent, you’re foolish,” he growled. “That surprises me, Dr Smoak. I thought as a historian of your caliber, you would have more sense.”

She’d had enough of this. Standing abruptly, Felicity moved towards the door, which was still partially open. "I’ve had a long day. Is that all?"

Merlyn sidestepped in front of her, slamming the door shut. “No, it is not. What I am most intrigued by, at present, is how an ignorant witch with no magical training of any kind, somehow managed to uncover a book lost for centuries, and unravel a spell concealing it that the most powerful of creatures could never hope to break.”

“So that’s why you’re all watching me.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Merlyn said curtly. “Your success may have been a fluke. The passage of time can interfere with witchcraft, and anniversaries of spellcasting are usually when spells are the weakest. You haven’t tried to recall it yet, but when you do, it may not come as easily as it did the first time.”

“And what anniversary would we be celebrating?”

“The sesquicentennial.”

The one hundred and fiftieth anniversary? Merlyn sounded remarkably sure about how old the enchantment on the manuscript was. Frowning, Felicity wondered why a witch would put a spell on a manuscript in the first place, especially considering it was an enchantment to hide and stop anybody from reading it. Someone dangerous must have been looking for it all those years ago, too. She blanched. She was right back to the start, trying to figure out Oliver Queen and his interest in Ashmole 782.

“The next time you see your vampire, ask him what he was doing in the Autumn of 1859,” Merlyn said to her in a low voice. “I doubt he’ll tell you the truth, but he might reveal enough for you to piece it all together on your own.”

“Look, Mr Merlyn, I’m tired. Creatures have been stalking me for over a week now and I’m still confused about why they care about the manuscript. Why don’t you tell me, witch to witch, what your interest is in Ashmole 782?”

“That manuscript belongs to us,” Merlyn responded fiercely. “We’re the only creatures who can understand its secrets, and the only creatures who can be trusted to keep them.”

Her temper flared. Felicity was done with being kept in the dark. “What is in the manuscript?”

“The first spells ever constructed. Descriptions of the enchantments that bind the world together. The secret of immortality. How witches made the first daemon. How vampires were created - and how can be destroyed, once and for all.” Merlyn lifted his chain, his eyes piercing. “It’s the source of all our power, past and present. It cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of daemons or vampires – or humans.”

Felicity shook her head, aghast. “Nobody would put all that information into a single book.”

“The First Witch did,” Merlyn insisted. “And her sons and daughters, too, down through time. It’s our history, Felicity. Surely you want to protect it from prying eyes.”

“At the moment, the only ‘prying eyes’ bothering me are yours,” she retorted.

Walter Steele strolled back the room as if he’d been waiting by the door. The tension between the two witches was suffocating, but the human seemed blissfully unaware of it. “What a palaver over nothing,” he huffed. “The freshmen illegally obtained a punt along the canal. The police just located them, stuck under a bridge and a little worse for wear, but utterly content with their situation. A romance may result.”

“At least they’re safe,” Felicity replied, flashing a fake smile. The clock struck six pm in the corner. “Is that the time? I’ll have to go. I have an engagement.”

“You won’t be joining us for dinner?” Walter asked with a frown. “Malcolm has been looking forward to talking to you about alchemy.”

“Our paths will cross again,” Merlyn said, his intent gaze making Felicity shudder. “Soon, I suspect. My visit was such a surprise, and of course, Dr Smoak has better things to do than have dinner with two men our age.”

 _Be careful around Oliver Queen._ Merlyn’s voice rang in Felicity's head. _He’s a killer._

Walter smiled. “Yes, of course. I do hope to see you again, Felicity – when the freshmen have settled down and stopped causing chaos throughout Oxford.”

“Good luck for the next coming months, then,” Felicity attempted to joke. “Everybody knows the freshers' activities don’t stop until December.”

Walter laughed.

 _Ask him about 1859. See if he’ll share his secrets with a witch_ , Merlyn continued.

 _It’s hardly a secret if you know it_ , Felicity lashed back. Surprise registered on Merlyn’s face when she replied to his mental warning, as he must not have been expecting it. _Now leave me alone._

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Walter. And thank you again for letting me stay in college this year.” Felicity nodded shortly to the male witch. “Mr Merlyn.”

 _I’ll be seeing you again soon_ , he projected.

 _Don’t count on it_ , she replied.

Fleeing from the warden’s lodgings, Felicity turned toward her old refuge in the cloisters and rested against the wall until her heart stopped racing. Merlyn was gone from her mind - had withdrawn the mental link he’d forcefully established. Her head ached almost as bad as it had after her first encounter with that nasty man.

Felicity was scared, and confused. Two witches, her own kind, had threatened her in the space of a single afternoon. Both of them had considerably better magical control than her. Alena’s affiliation with the local coven in Oxford meant that she could easily make life much more difficult and dangerous for Felicity, and while Merlyn was in the city, he had a vast amount of influence and could make her life hell. Felicity was in danger. She liked to believe that she could protect herself, but she knew deep down that she couldn’t. She could barely keep a handle on her powers, so there was no way for her to use magic to place up protective barriers around her rooms, or place a magical shield on herself to ward off attacks.

With sudden clarity, she knew what she had to do.

Once she was back in her rooms, Felicity frantically searched through her bag until her fingers found Oliver Queen’s crumpled business card. Thank god she’d kept it. She dialed the first number, but there was no answer. After a robotic voice indicated that she could leave a voicemail, Felicity spoke.

“Oliver, it’s Felicity Smoak. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re out of town.” She exhaled shakily, taking a brief second to dispel some of the guilt associated with her spur-of-the-moment decision not to tell Oliver about Alena and her parents, but only about Merlyn. “Look, we need to talk. Something’s happened. It’s that male witch from the Libraries. His name is Malcolm Merlyn. I - I need your help. I think I’m in danger and I don’t know what to do. Please call me when you get this message. I hope you get back to Oxford soon. Bye.”

With trembling hands, Felicity whisked the curtains across the windows, locked the door, and curled up on her bed, wrapped in a blanket as she fought back the panic attack crushing her lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter oliver will be back, don't worry!


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> olivers back!!!!!!! (f i n a l l y like geez dude spent the whole weekend sucking on deer necks)
> 
> on another note, it's been a month since i started writing this fic huh
> 
> thank you for all your support once again, i really appreciate it!!! enjoy the chapter x

Sleep was impossible for Felicity that night. Insomnia was one of the more annoying side effects of her excess adrenalin disorder, and with her constant anxiety about Malcolm Merlyn and the manuscript bubbling below the surface, there was no way she could rest. She refused to take any sort of sleeping aids or drugs, so decided to stay up and work on her papers, drinking her way through several mugs of strong coffee and trying to take her mind off the day’s events.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget Alena’s words about how witches might have murdered her parents. But that couldn’t be true. Pushing back those thoughts, she instead puzzled over the enchantment on Ashmole 782 and Merlyn’s interest in it.

Once dawn broke, Felicity forced herself to get up from her couch to shower and change. It was raining quite heavily and Undergraduate rowing trials were being held today, so it wouldn’t be possible to enjoy a run or row on the river. The idea of breakfast was unappetizing, her stomach twisting at the thought of food.

Rather than eat, Felicity headed to the Bodleian and waited outside until it opened, taking her regular seat. Dinah walked in barely ten minutes after her, setting up at the table opposite rather that at Felicity’s. It helped the witch relax a little - well, up until the point when at half-past ten, Malcolm Merlyn strolled in. He sat at a desk across the other side of the room, but was watching Felicity incredibly intensely. On the premise of returning a manuscript, Felicity went back to the collection desk, silently motioning at Dinah to come and talk to her. The female vampire was at her side in seconds, glaring at Merlyn.

“He’s irritating you, isn’t he?” Dinah scowled.

“He keeps staring at my back while I work.”

“And he’s been stalking you for the last couple of days. I wish I were larger. Then I could properly scare him away,” the vampire said with a frown.

Felicity sighed and tried to shoot her a reassuring smile. “Somehow I think it would take more than size to deter that creature.”

“Do you want me to come and sit next to you?”

“No, don’t worry. I should be fine, as long as he doesn’t try and talk to me.”

Dinah looked unsure. “Just give me a whistle if you need back up.” She began striding back to her table.

“Dinah?” She paused, turning back to face the witch with a raised eyebrow. Swallowing, Felicity asked quietly, “When do you think Oliver is coming back?”

“Keep the desk in front of you clear,” was her response.

Two hours later, Oliver arrived in the Selden End, without warning or sound, and with no icy patches on Felicity’s back indicating his entrance. Instead, she felt light snowflakes all along her hair and shoulders, as if the vampire was checking quickly to make sure she was physically unharmed. Breath hitching, Felicity’s fingers gripped the edge of her desk. She didn’t dare turn around in case it was just Dinah. She didn’t want to disappoint herself. But when she saw it was actually Oliver, in the flesh, her heart gave a single loud thump. His gaze immediately flashed over to her and when their eyes met, Felicity was pleasantly surprised at how relieved he appeared.

“Hi,” she whispered.

He very gently laid his hand on top of her shoulder, the coldness of his skin leaching through her shirt. His voice, in drastic contrast to his fingers, was warm. “Hi.”

“You’re here.” It was a stupid thing to say - it was evident he was, considering he was standing in front of her - but Felicity needed to state it aloud.

“I am,” he smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any warning as to my leaving. I trust Dinah informed you that I was gone?”

“And she’s been keeping me company.” Felicity glanced over at the female vampire, who was pointedly keeping her eyes lowered to the book she was reading.

“I’m glad you weren’t alone here,” Oliver said.

The witch nodded. “I’m happy you’re back,” she murmured.

“I am, as well.”

There was a hefty cough from the other side of the room. Malcolm Merlyn was glowering at the two of them. When Felicity nervously glanced up at Oliver to gauge his reaction to this, the vampire was no longer looking in her direction. He was staring at Merlyn with a ferocious expression and an enraged gleam in his eyes. His hand tightened on Felicity’s shoulder almost painfully in a sort of possessive manner, and the witch’s eyes widened when Oliver bared his teeth with a low, quiet growl.

“Oliver,” she called softly, rising to her feet. He dragged his eyes from Merlyn, back to hers, and dropped his hand from her shoulder. “It’s all right.”

“I understand there’s been some excitement while I was gone,” the vampire replied, his voice clipped.

“Nothing that Dinah and I couldn’t handle.”

His brow furrowed in disapproval. “It sounds like you’ve been more stirring up trouble than handling it.”

Felicity stared back at him. “Are you angry with me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“More upset than angry,” he told her quietly.

“Tough. You weren’t here. I did what I had to do to get by and work comfortably here. You can’t judge me for that.”

He looked begrudgingly impressed with her courage. Oliver nodded in acknowledgment and then to Felicity’s shock, laced their fingers together and squeezed her hand, pulling her in for a quick hug. His closeness to her was dizzying. The witch remained utterly still as Oliver sniffed at her hair and neck. Clearly, he’d got over the effects of her scent on his thirst while he was in Scotland. There was a small bump on his sternum from something he was wearing close to his heart under the soft fibers of his Henley.

Merlyn bristled furiously at the sight of them embracing, but eventually looked away in disgust.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was in actuality barely a minute, Oliver pulled away. “I know we need to talk. But can our conversation wait – just until the end of the day? I could take you to yoga.”

A soothing drive to the Old Lodge in the Jaguar, with excellent sound insulation, followed by an hour of relaxing, meditative movement, sounded perfect. “That would be great,” Felicity said honestly.

Sliding into the chair next to her and placing his laptop bag down in front of him, Oliver questioned, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.”

Something akin to a smirk appeared on his face, but it was sad. “Did you miss me, Dr Smoak?”

“What would you say if I told you yes, Professor Queen?” she countered teasingly.

He visibly wilted. Oliver did not seem very happy hearing this. Felicity opened her mouth to try and perhaps apologize for accidentally upsetting him, but the vampire already had his head angled down as he started working on his laptop. He must have been able to sense her worry about annoying him, because Oliver glanced up with a reassuring smile after a moment to let her know it was okay.

Both Oliver and Dinah escorted Felicity to Blackwell’s for lunch when the time came, the two vampires discussing some kind of blood test results that had come through while Oliver had been gone. Felicity didn’t really listen, as the pathology they were talking about was far too advanced for her to understand. If Oliver noticed how she barely ate half of the sandwich she bought, he didn’t mention it. After they returned to the Libraries, the afternoon dragged on interminably. Due to her lack of sleep last night, it was almost impossible for the witch to stay awake. Felicity found herself nodding off at one point, and being prodded awake by Oliver, who was watching her in concern.

By five pm, she was more than ready to leave the Bodleian. Merlyn remained in the Selden End as they left, surrounded by humans. Felicity eyed him cautiously as the male witch snapped a pencil in his hand in frustration over how close Oliver and Dinah were sticking to her side, and she silently thanked the heavens that Oliver had decided to return to Oxford today, before Merlyn could make his next move.

“I’ll pick you up at six, outside Hertford,” Oliver told her once they were outside New College. “Make sure you grab something to eat before. Your blood glucose levels are low.”

“You can detect blood glucose levels by scent?” She was beginning to think there wasn’t much Oliver couldn’t do when it came to senses.

During her spare hour, Felicity showered, changed into her comfortable clothes for yoga and packed her bag. She also scarfed down a piece of toast with strawberry jam so that Oliver wouldn’t jab at her about her blood glucose levels again. When the Jaguar drove up to Hertford’s metal railings, the witch was waiting for the vampire on the pavement.

“You’re early,” he noted with a small smile. Oliver breathed in sharply as he helped her into the car, and for a second, Felicity wondered what chemical messages her body was passing on to him.

“Better early than late,” she shrugged. “No Dinah?”

Oliver chuckled. “Yoga isn’t really her forte.”

“Didn’t think so,” she laughed, but quickly sobered. “We need to talk.”

“There’s no rush. Let’s get out of Oxford first.”

Once Felicity had closed the passenger door behind her, Oliver clambered into the driver’s seat. The traffic on Woodstock Road was heavier due to the influx of students and dons. The beginning of term always was a hectic time. Felicity found herself missing the quietness of the city she’d become accustomed to during the late summer.

“Are you seriously upset with me for confronting the creatures in the Libraries?” she questioned, as they cleared the city limits. To be honest, she didn’t really care about what Oliver chose to speak of, so long as he talked. She wouldn’t even mind being lectured by him. His voice calmed her, and the last couple of days where she hadn’t seen him had been stressful.

“I wish you hadn’t done it,” he answered. “But you’re right. I wasn’t there, the situation was out of hand - you decided to sort it out. I can’t pass judgment on you for that. I’m just glad you had Dinah with you as back up.”

“Bodyguard would be a more accurate description.” She propped her head on her hand, which she leaned on the central armrest. “How was Scotland?”

Oliver glanced at her briefly, curiosity in his gaze, but then returned his eyes to the road. “It was fine. Why do you ask?”

“Dinah said you were hunting.”

An expression of shame mixed with irritation passed over his face like a shadow. “She shouldn’t have.”

“Why?”

“Because some things shouldn’t be discussed in mixed company. Do witches tell creatures who aren’t witches that they’ve just returned from four days of casting spells and skinning cats?”

“Witches don’t skin cats!” Felicity retorted instantly, indignant.

“The point still stands.”

Still a little pissed off about his cat comment, Felicity fiddled with the car’s climate control dials for a minute, as despite wearing a jacket, she was still a little cold. “Were you alone?”

“No,” Oliver admitted. He didn’t say anything more.

“I wasn’t alone in Oxford either,” Felicity started. “The creatures -”

“Dinah told me. She’s been keeping me informed of what’s going on.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “I came back as soon as I got your voicemail. If I’d known that the witch bothering you was Malcolm Merlyn, I’d never have left.”

“You know him?” she asked sharply.

“I know of him. He’s from the Congregation. Most creatures have heard his name before.” He cast an exasperated look toward her. “You obviously haven’t. Although that might be because of your attempts to keep magic out of your life, more than anything else.”

She needed to make a disclosure of her own before they tackled the complex subject of Merlyn. “You were right,” Felicity confessed quietly. “I’ve never kept my powers locked away; they’re a part of me, even though I don’t really want them. I’ve been using magic in my work, without realizing it. It’s in everything. I’ve been fooling myself for years.” She exhaled shakily. “Oliver, I’m scared.”

The vampire’s cold hand touched her knee in a comforting gesture. “I know.”

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

“We’ll figure it out,” he assured her. “Together.” He turned the Jaguar in to face the Old Lodge’s gates. Felicity felt his eyes watching her as he scrutinized her face, creating little icy pinpricks along her cheeks. “You’re tired. Can you manage yoga today? We can go and spend the evening in the gatehouse if you’d prefer.”

“I’d like to go to yoga. I haven’t been running as much as I want to and I need to stretch out my muscles.”

Oliver parked the car, climbed out and opened the door for her, but this time, he didn’t help her out. Instead, he picked up both of their bags and mats and refused to let Felicity carry her own. She would have minded usually, but tonight she didn’t. She was just glad that Oliver was back. Other members of the class filtered by on the driveway, casting suspicious looks in their direction, but none of them were openly hostile.

As the two of them walked towards the entranceway of the mansion, Oliver finally informed her, “I was in Scotland with an old friend of mine, John Diggle.”

“Another vampire?”

“No, actually. He’s a daemon. He works as a security and intelligence official in the British government.” Felicity blinked in surprise at that information, but didn’t have the change to reply, as the vampire pushed on to say, “I needed to get away and hunt. You left your sweater in my car after yoga last time.”

“Yeah, I know. Dinah gave it back to me already,” Felicity said, puzzled at why he was being this up now.

“I couldn’t hold on to it. Do you understand why?”

Felicity shook her head. She knew he was affected by her scent, but she didn’t know as to what extent. Oliver sighed and then swore - in French, to her astonishment. She didn’t know that he spoke French. Then again, he was a vampire, hundreds of years old; Oliver had probably learned many languages.

“My car was full of your scent, Felicity. I needed to leave Oxford. I…” he trailed off, raking his hand through his hair as he swung around, looking down the drive with slight chagrin. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“... Oh.” The witch’s heart was beating irregularly, and the reduced blood flow slowed her mental processes. Finally, though, Felicity thought she understood. Oliver couldn’t stop thinking about her because of her scent’s influence on him - her scent’s influence on his thirst. She didn’t trust vampires on principle, but she trusted Oliver. “You’re not afraid you would hurt me?”

He shot her a wary look. “I don’t want to, but I can’t be sure.”

“So you didn’t go because of what happened Friday night? Because of… the argument we had?” she asked, her mouth dry.

Oliver shook his head. “No,” he replied gently. “It had nothing to do with that.”

Felicity barely had any time to process her relief at that, because Shado’s voice echoed down from the house’s doorway as she called impatiently, “Are you two going to come in, or are you going to practice out here on the drive tonight?”

The two of them went into class side by side. As the yoga session commenced, and as they went through the motions of the warming-up routine, Felicity occasionally glanced at the vampire when she thought Oliver wasn’t looking. Their first properly honest exchange of information had altered things between them. They were both trying to figure out what was going to happen next. Felicity felt more at ease with Oliver than she ever had before. If he was going to start being entirely truthful with her, that meant she could afford to release her worries about trusting him.

After class ended, when Oliver pulled his Henley on over his head, something silver and gleaming hanging out from his t-shirt caught Felicity’s eye. The small shining object was tied around his neck on a thin leather cord. It was what she’d noticed Oliver kept touching through his shirt, like a talisman.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Oliver went still. “A reminder,” he said shortly.

“Of what?”

“The destructive power of anger.”

Felicity swallowed, remembering how Sara, Nyssa, and even Malcolm Merlyn had warned her to be careful around Oliver. “Is it a pilgrim’s badge?” The small, ancient object reminded her of one she’d seen before, in the British Museum.

He nodded, looking impressed that she’d been able to work out what it was, and pulled the badge out by the cord. It swung freely, glinting as the light struck it. Felicity raised her hand to touch it, but quickly stopped herself when she saw the expression Oliver’s face.

“It’s an ampulla from Bethany,” he told her.

It was shaped like a coffin, and Bethany was where Christ had resurrected Lazarus from the dead. “Lazarus,” she said faintly, to herself.

“Yes.”

The vampire slid the ampulla back under his Henley, concealing it from the eyes of the creatures who were still filing out of the room, and her. They said goodbye to Shado and walked back to the car, but they stood outside the Old Lodge to enjoy the crisp autumn air, waiting until the rest of the creatures had left and they were left alone. It was dark, despite the glow that shone through the windows of the mansion and bathed them in soft light.

“Do you feel better?” Oliver asked hesitantly, breaking into Felicity’s thoughts.

“A lot, thank you.”

He leaned against the bonnet of the Jaguar, patting the space next to him in invitation. “Then tell me what I’ve missed while I was away from Oxford. Dinah’s only told me so much and I would rather get your take on things.”

Felicity exhaled slowly, sliding into the spot beside him so they were brushing elbows. She had to take a moment to center herself, her anxiety building up inside of her as she was forced to think about Merlyn and Ashmole 782 again. “It’s the manuscript. Malcolm Merlyn and the witches want it. A daemon from the Bodleian I spoke to the other day said that they want it. You want it, too.”

“I did warn you that other creatures would be searching for it.”

“I know, but they can’t find it. Ashmole 782 is under some sort of concealment spell.”

“I know,” Oliver replied, lips ticking up in a smile.

She blinked. “You know?”

“I suspected.”

A huge dark falcon swooped down in front of them, its giant wings beating the air. Felicity flinched back and lifted her arms to protect herself; she was convinced the bird of prey was going to strike at her with its sharp beak and talons. But then Oliver jumped in front of her protectively and snarled, the sound fierce and shocking. The falcon released a harsh cry and soared back up into the black sky, back towards the forest. 

Felicity’s heart pounded painfully in her chest and the sudden adrenalin that rushed over her swept her from her feet. Head swimming and aching, she felt as if her lungs were being constricted. Her inhalations were stuttered and shallow as she struggled for oxygen. She was slipping very quickly into a panic attack and it was already too late to stop it. Without any warning, Oliver yanked open the back door of the Jaguar, took hold of her shoulders, and pushed her onto the seat.

“Keep your head down and breathe slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth,” he ordered. The vampire lowered himself to a crouch on the gravel driveway, with his fingers resting on Felicity’s knees.

Bile rose and crawled up her throat, choking her. Felicity covered her mouth with her hand and tried to hold back her instinctive retching. Oliver reached over and tucked a wayward piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers cool and soothing. Curling his hand around the back of her neck, he shuffled forwards so he was situated between her knees.

“It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The tightness in the witch’s chest eased slightly, the fog in her mind clearing. Her shaking hand passed across her mouth as the nausea eventually subsided. “I’m so sorry,” Felicity whispered. “The anxiety… it started the day after you left and just intensified last night, after I saw Merlyn.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“Not right now. I can’t. I might throw up otherwise.”

“Do you want to walk a bit? It might help the sickness and dizziness pass.”

“No,” she answered hastily. Despite feeling a lot calmer, there was still a fluttering ball of agitation coiled up in her chest that was causing her hands to tremble, and legs to feel numb. There was no way she would be able to walk around the Old Lodge’s gardens without tripping, stumbling or falling, the risk of which was only increased by the darkness.

Oliver inspected her with keen, concerned eyes. “I’m taking you home. The rest of this conversation can wait.”

He helped her up from the backseat, bracing her arms until Felicity was settled comfortably in the front of the Jaguar. Felicity slumped back, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Panic attacks always completely wore her out. She didn’t even realize Oliver had climbed in until he started up the engine, causing the car to purr quietly around them. He didn’t place the vehicle into gear, however, simply angling his body towards her.

“Does this happen often?” the vampire asked. She could tell he was trying to keep his voice neutral, but a glint of worry trickled through.

“No, thank god,” Felicity responded with a bitter laugh. “It happened a lot when I was a kid, but it’s much better now. The panic attacks happen maybe once a month, when I’m at my most anxious. They’re usually triggered by a large excess of adrenalin.”

“I can tell,” he responded, disengaging the parking brake and pulling out onto the drive. “Your adrenaline levels are always increased compared to regular creatures. I could tell today when we met in the Bodleian that they were unusually high - higher than normal, for you. Is this why you exercise so much – the running, the rowing, the yoga?”

“Yeah. I don’t like taking drugs. They make me feel fuzzy and reduce my focus.”

“The exercise is probably more effective anyway.”

“It hasn’t really helped over the last couple of days,” she murmured, thinking of all the instances involving her recently electrified hands.

They drove out of the Old Lodge’s grounds and onto the regular streets. Oliver seemed to be concentrating on making sure the drive was as smooth as possible. When he glanced back over at her briefly, his gaze had shifted from being worried to being confused and skeptical. “Why did you call me?”

Flickers of panic returned at Oliver’s sudden shift in mood. Felicity raised a hand to her mouth, chewing uneasily at her nails. “Because of Merlyn and Ashmole 782.”

“I know that. What I’m asking is why you called _me_. Surely you have friends – witches, humans – who could help you.”

“Not really. None of my human friends know I’m a witch, and I can’t exactly tell them what’s going on without them thinking I’m going crazy. I don’t have friends who are witches except for Sara and Nyssa, and I can’t drag them into this when they’re in Madison. It’s not their fault I did something stupid, accidentally broke a centuries-old spell and then sent the manuscript back and reset it, when I didn’t understand it.”

“So you called me instead?” Oliver frowned.

Felicity switched from gnawing on her nails to biting her lip. “Should I not have?”

“I’m not certain. I just didn’t think I would be the first person you would go to for aid.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” Felicity paused, considering her next words carefully. “But there is one thing I know for sure. I’d rather share the Libraries with you than with Merlyn. I trust you - I will never trust him.”

Oliver exhaled, sounding frustrated. “Vampires are never completely trustworthy – not when they’re around warmbloods.”

“Warmbloods?”

“Humans, witches, daemons – everyone who’s not a vampire.”

“I’ll risk your bite before I let Merlyn slither into my brain to fish for information.”

The vampire immediately turned to her, his eyes wild and with a promise of violence in them. “Has he tried to do that?” he demanded.

“It was nothing,” Felicity replied swiftly. “He was just giving me a warning.”

“About what?”

She swallowed. “You.”

Oliver did not seem shocked by that, or even offended. He actually appeared quite relaxed at this idea. “So he should. You shouldn’t romanticize vampires, Felicity. Merlyn might not have your best interests at heart, but he was right about me.”

“You don’t even know what he said about you,” Felicity protested.

“I don’t need to. I’m betting he told you that I’m dangerous - that I’m a killer. Vampires are apex predators. Did I not just tell you that I had to leave Oxford to hunt because of the effect of your scent on me? If he told you to be cautious around me, you should listen to his advice.”

The witch’s fingers began to prickle as her anger mounted. Oliver thought so little of himself and it irritated her immensely. Felicity shoved her hands under her thighs so she wouldn’t accidentally short out the car’s electrical systems, although she winced at the faint smoky smell of singed leather. “I don’t let other people don’t pick my friends. Definitely not partisans like Merlyn.”

“Vampires aren’t particularly good at friendship.”

“You said that John Diggle is your friend.”

“John is a daemon. Maybe I should correct myself - vampires aren’t particularly good at friendship with witches.”

Felicity was too tired to argue with him. She stared out the window at the passing countryside wearily. “Look, if you want me to leave you alone -”

“Of course not,” Oliver interrupted. “It’s just that vampire relationships are . . . complicated. We can be protective. Possessive. You might not like it.”

Remembering Merlyn’s menacing presence and the way he’d reacted to the vampire turning up at the Bodleian this morning, she responded, “A little protectiveness sounds pretty good to me right now.”

Her answer brought a look of raw vulnerability to Oliver’s eyes. His voice was full of wry amusement when he replied, “I’ll remind you of that when you start complaining.”

“If I start complaining, just remind me that Merlyn’s still in Oxford and apparently after me, and I’ll shut up, I promise.”

The Jaguar slowed as they reached Holywell Street, turning into the arched gates of New College. Rene was standing in the porter’s lodge and when he caught sight of them, he grinned before looking discreetly away. Felicity waited for Oliver to open the door, checking the car carefully to make sure that nothing of hers was left behind. She picked a couple of stray blonde hair strands off the seat. Hopefully her scent wouldn’t be as potent in the car as it was before when she forgot her sweater. She didn’t want to drive the vampire back to Scotland.

“There’s more to all of this. More than Merlyn and the manuscript,” Felicity told him, when Oliver handed over her bag and yoga mat.

“It can wait, Felicity,” he smiled. But then his expression transformed into a grim, determined one, and he touched the ampulla under his Henley. “And don’t worry. Malcolm Merlyn won’t get within fifty feet of you again.”

“Thank you.”

“Listen,” Oliver took hold of her arm tenderly. “I’d like to take you to my lab tomorrow. We can walk there after lunch. I know you have a lot of questions about why I’m interested in Ashmole 782… I think by taking you to my lab, I might be able to answer a couple of them. Is that all right?”

Thrilled with this development, Felicity nodded eagerly. “After lunch? Can we not go earlier?”

“There’ll be active experiments going on in the morning. Lots of hazardous chemicals, volatile substances, and expensive equipment… things a witch with accidental and uncontrollable magic habits really shouldn’t be around,” he told her, sounding rather apologetic.

“Ah. Yeah, that… sounds sensible. After lunch it is. You’ll be in the Bodleian tomorrow?”

“You’ll find me at our usual table.”

It was a natural end to their conversation, and considering how it was getting dark, Felicity started towards the entranceway to New College. “Oh, there’s one more thing,” she said, pausing. “Let Dinah get back to her own work. She doesn’t need to act as my guard dog in the Libraries anymore, not when you’re around.”

“I’ll consider it,” Oliver allowed. He got back into the Jaguar, but when Felicity showed no sign of moving, he rolled down his window with a playfully disapproving look. “Hey. I’m not leaving until I see you walk through those doors, where you’re safe.”

“Vampires,” Felicity muttered, with an amused shake of her head.

Once she was up in her rooms, she pulled out her phone and found Oliver’s number, typing out a quick text.

To: Oliver Queen - _Got in. Happy?_

Re: From: Oliver Queen - _Goodnight, Felicity._

Re: To: Oliver Queen - _Goodnight, Oliver._


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back with chapter 12! this might be one of the favourite chapters I've written..... i just love everybody's dynamics in this!
> 
> thank you for all your support xx

The next morning, Oliver was leaning against the wall beside the porter’s lodge outside New College when Felicity emerged from her rooms, ready to walk to the Bodleian. He was scuffing a rather expensive looking shoe against the cobblestones, frowning down at the ground as if it offended him by existing somehow. Felicity couldn’t stop the amused grin that split her face as she watched him startle when she approached.

“Good morning,” the vampire greeted her, handing her a take-out cup of coffee with one hand, and offering to take her laptop bag with his other.

“How did you know I wasn’t at the Libraries already?” Felicity asked. It was ten am, quite late considering how she usually arrived at the Bod near to opening times.

“I went and checked the Selden End before coming here,” Oliver shrugged. “You should know that it’s nearly full to the brim with witches today. We’re not staying that long, but perhaps you would prefer to sit somewhere else?”

She nodded, slightly touched that he would go to so much effort for her, to make sure she was safe. “You got me coffee, as well,” she pointed out, taking a sip of the hot liquid. By some miracle, Oliver seemed to have prepared it almost exactly how she normally would. “You’ve been taking notes on how I like it.”

“It’s good then?”

“It’s perfect.”

Oliver looked pleased with himself. “You’ll be happy to know that Dinah won’t be joining us today - you’ll see her later at the labs, but she’s running PCR sequences all morning. Just how she enjoys.”

“Great. I was scared she was going to bite my head off if she had to spend another day watching me for you.”

They strolled leisurely through Oxford side-by-side, talking about how the city had changed over the last week due to the large influx of Undergraduate students. The weather had turned resolutely cold and gray, and Felicity pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck, shivering due to the damp air. Oliver didn’t seem to mind the cold at all, and wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a dark blue Henley that matched well with his eyes. The gloomy weather made the vampire look a little less startling, but it wasn’t enough to make him blend in entirely. Humans turned and stared as they walked through the Bodleian’s central courtyard towards the entranceway, shaking their heads.

“You’ve been noticed,” Felicity told Oliver with a grin.

“I forgot my coat. Besides, they’re looking at you, not me.” He gave the witch a dazzling smile. 

Felicity noticed a woman who was standing around ten feet away from them’s jaw drop, and she poked her friend, inclining her head in Oliver’s direction. Both of them looked like they were about to swoon at the sight of him. She laughed. “Oh, you are _so_ wrong.”

There was no point in requesting manuscripts considering they were only going to be in the Libraries for two or three hours, so they settled down in a quieter section of Duke Humphrey’s, where no other creatures were present. Felicity worked on sorting out her electronic notes, cleaning them up, while Oliver appeared to be pouring over some complicated genetic diagrams on his own laptop.

They stopped at noon for lunch, and from Blackwell’s, began walking towards Oliver’s labs. Heading toward Keble College and the University Parks, they made a right turn at Rhodes House before entering the labyrinth of modern buildings devoted to laboratory and computer space. Oliver pointed to their destination, which was a nondescript and low-slung building.

When they reached the door, the vampire fished a plastic identity card out of his pocket. He swiped it through the reader at the door handle and punched in a set of codes in two different sequences. Once the door unlocked, he ushered Felicity to the guard’s station, where he signed her in as a guess.

“This is a lot of security for a university laboratory,” Felicity commented, clipping her security pass onto her sweater.

Oliver chuckled. “Wait until we get further in.”

The security only increased down the miles of corridors that somehow managed to fit inside the building. At the end of one hallway, Oliver took a more official card out of his pocket, swiped it, and put his index finger on a glass panel next to a door. Felicity’s eyes widened as the glass panel chimed, and a touchpad appeared on its surface. Oliver’s fingers raced over the numbered keys. The door clicked softly open, and a clean, antiseptic hospital smell washed over them.

A series of glass-enclosed rooms stretched ahead. The main space considered of a giant lab, full of file cabinets, computers, microscopes, specimen fridges, racks upon racks of test tubes, centrifuges, and dozens of unrecognizable devices and instruments. The whole area was bathed in sharp white lights, but seemed empty. From somewhere, however, there came faint strains of a Bach cello concerto and something that sounded an awful lot like the winning 2017 Eurovision contest song.

“Welcome to the history lab,” Oliver announced. “This is where we’re studying evolution. We take in physical specimens from old burial sites, excavations, fossilized remains, and living beings, and extract DNA from the samples. We’re just one laboratory among hundreds all over the world using genetics to study species origin and extinction. The difference between our lab and the rest is that humans aren’t the only species we’re studying.”

It took Felicity a moment to realize what he was saying, but when she got it, she gaped in disbelief. “You’re studying vampire genetics?”

“Not just vampires. Witches and daemons, too.”

A male vampire wearing a red hoodie, jeans, and black converse high-tops sped around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of them, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He was in his early twenties, with short light brown hair and blue eyes. Comparing him to Oliver, the younger vampire’s average height and build made him look slight, but his body was wiry and energetic.

“Felicity, this is Dr Roy Harper,” Oliver introduced.

“A biochemist as well?” she questioned.

Roy hurried forwards with a wide, easy smile, holding his hand out for her to shake. “Nope, different kind of doctor, I’m afraid.”

He ducked his head towards her neck suddenly and inhaled deeply when they grasped hands. Felicity leaned back nervously. Roy was obviously scenting her. Oliver stepped in front of her with a warning growl and wrapped his arm around Felicity’s waist protectively. His eyes were piercing as he silently ordered the younger vampire to back off.

Roy backed away but didn’t seem scared of Oliver’s snarl, and he studied the witch in admiration. “Wow, AB-negative,” he noted. “Terrific find, Oliver. I don’t suppose I could take some of your blood, could I? It’s difficult to get samples from a living witch.”

Clearing his throat loudly, Oliver said, “Roy, this is Felicity Smoak.”

“The witch you and Dinah refuse to tell me much information about,” Roy smirked.

“She is here as my guest, not a pincushion.” Oliver narrowed his eyes, his arm tightening around Felicity’s waist.

“Oh.” Roy looked disappointed, but then brightened, turning back to Felicity. “Would you mind if I took some of your blood anyway?”

“Um, yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied, slightly alarmed by his enthusiasm. The witch had no wish to be poked and prodded by a vampire phlebotomist.

Roy ran his eyes up and down her body, whistling. “That’s one hell of a fight-or-flight response you have there, Dr Smoak. Smell that adrenaline.”

“What’s going on?” a familiar voice called out. Dinah strode in a couple seconds later, sweeping her long brunette hair back into a ponytail as she entered the lab, before finishing doing up the buttons of her white lab coat. She sniffed suspiciously as she wheeled towards them.

“Felicity is a bit overwhelmed by the labs, Dinah,” Oliver explained. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was her,” Dinah said. “She smells different. Is it adrenaline? I’ve smelled it on her before but never this potent.”

Roy nodded. “Yep. Are you always like this?” he asked the witch curiously. “All dressed up in adrenaline and no place to go?”

“Roy…” Oliver could issue a bone-chilling warning in one remarkably short syllable.

“Since I was seven,” Felicity told him, meeting the younger vampire’s startling blue eyes. They were sort of similar to Oliver’s, she noticed. Or maybe a lot of vampires had blue eyes?

“That explains a lot,” Roy snorted. “No vampire could turn his back on that.” He gestured towards her body, but Felicity knew he wasn’t referring to her physical appearance or features.

“What are you talking about?” she asked warily.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair and yanked at it frustratedly, aiming a ferocious glare at Roy that would curdle milk. The younger vampire just smirked.

“Vampires are predators, Felicity,” Oliver explained quietly. “We’re attracted to the fight-or-flight response. When people or animals become agitated, we can smell it.”

“And we can taste it, too. Adrenaline makes blood even more delicious,” Roy piped up. “Spicy, silky, and then it turns sweet. Really good stuff. Better than chocolate in my opinion.”

A low rumble started in Oliver’s throat as he fully stepped in front of Felicity, shielding her. His lips curled away from his teeth, and Roy stumbled backward. Dinah placed her hand firmly on the younger vampire’s forearm with a long-suffering sigh, trying to tug him away into another room.

“What? I’m not hungry!” Roy protested, shaking off Dinah’s hand.

“Dr Smoak may not know that vampires don’t have to be physically hungry to be sensitive to adrenaline,” Dinah told him scathingly.

“Vampires don’t always need to feed, but we always crave the hunt and the adrenaline reaction of prey to predator,” Oliver added, his voice gentle.

Given Felicity’s struggles to control her anxiety, it was no wonder Oliver had run off to Scotland. It wasn’t her scent that made him hungry – it was the witch’s excess adrenaline. “Thank you for explaining, Oliver. I’ll try to calm down.”

“There’s no need,” he replied. “It’s not your job to calm down. It’s our job to exercise a modicum of courtesy and control.” He glowered at Roy, finally releasing Felicity from his side to open up a file cabinet and pull out one of the files.

When Dinah caught a glimpse of what the file was, she shot a concerned glance in Felicity’s direction. “Maybe we should start at the beginning.”

“No. I think it’s better to start at the end.”

“Do they know about Ashmole 782?” Felicity asked, when the other two vampires showed no sign of leaving. “I don’t mind if you told them.”

Oliver nodded. “I did speak to them about it briefly. But that’s not we’re going to talk about right now. I have something else to show you.”

He guided her to one of the metal stools, prompting her to sit down before sliding the file towards her. _VAMPIRE ON THE LOOSE IN LONDON?_ , the headline screamed as soon as she opened it.

Felicity’s stomach twisted. Despite her nausea, however, she moved the newspaper clipping aside to look at the next page. Underneath was the report of another mysterious death involving a bloodless corpse. Below that, a magazine story accompanied by a picture that made its contents clear, despite her inability to read German; the victim’s throat had been ripped open from jaw to carotid artery and there were very obvious teeth marks. There were dozens more murders, and reports in every language imaginable. All of them involving corpses drained of blood, without a speck of evidence found at the scene. Several of the articles suggested animal attacks, due to the savage nature of the injuries to the neck and torso. Felicity was horrified. She raised her gaze and found three sets of vampire eyes watching her attentively.

“What’s the point you’re trying to make here?” she asked.

“We’re dying,” Oliver said, when the witch pushed the last of the stories aside.

“Humans are dying, that’s for sure,” Felicity retorted, her voice harsh.

“Not just the humans. All creatures. We’re gradually dying out… our populations are declining… soon we’ll be extinct. And based on this evidence,” he pointed at the file, “Vampires are already exhibiting signs of species deterioration.”

“ _This_ is what you wanted to show me?” Felicity’s voice shook with anger. “What does this have to do with Merlyn, or Ashmole 782?” Alena’s recent warnings about her parents had stirred up painful memories, and these pictures only brought them into sharper focus.

“Hear me out,” Oliver requested, in a pleading tone. “Please.”

He might not be making sense, but he wasn’t deliberately frightening Felicity either. Oliver must have had a good reason for sharing this. Hugging the file folder, she nodded at him to continue.

“These deaths,” he began, drawing the folder carefully away from her, “Are results from failed attempts to transform humans into vampires. What was once second nature to us has become difficult. Our blood is increasingly incapable of turning humans. It’s easier for those who are older – vampires such as myself, who fed predominantly on human blood when we were young. As a vampire ages, however, we feel less compelled to make new vampires. Younger vampires, though, are a different story. They want to start families to dispel the loneliness of their new lives. When they find a human they are close friends with, want to mate with, or try to make children, some discover that their blood isn’t powerful enough.”

“That’s why Roy’s with us, even though he isn’t a geneticist,” Dinah muttered from across the room. “We’re studying a failed attempt of his to transform his friend Jason into a vampire after he was struck by a car.”

Roy whipped around and glared at her. “Shut up, Dinah!” he hissed.

“Easy, Roy,” Oliver warned.

Felicity wanted to ask more about that, but seeing the ferocity on the younger vampire’s face, she decided that it would be better to leave the subject alone. “You said all creatures are going extinct, not just vampires,” she reminded them evenly, her fury still simmering.

“Modern witches aren’t as powerful as their ancestors were,” Dinah said. “And you don’t produce as many children as in times past.”

“That doesn’t sound like evidence. It sounds like a subjective assessment.”

Dinah shot her an irritated look. “You want to see the evidence?” She picked up two more file folders from the cabinet and tossed them across the gleaming counter surface so that they slid into Felicity’s arms. “There it is – though I doubt you’ll understand much of it.”

One had a purple-edged label with ‘Benvenguda’ typed neatly on it. The other had a red-edged label, bearing the name ‘Good, Beatrice.’ The folders contained nothing but complex scientific graphs and diagrams. The ones on top were hoop-shaped and brilliantly colored. Underneath, more graphs showed black and gray bars marching across white paper.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Roy sighed. “No historian could begin to understand those.”

“These are DNA sequences,’ Felicity said, pointing to the black-and-white images. Roy and Dinah looked impressed. “But what are the colored graphs?”

Oliver dropped down onto the stool next to her, resting his elbows on the table. “They’re also genetic test results,” he explained, drawing the hoop-covered page closer. “These tell us about the mitochondrial DNA of a woman named Benvenguda, which she inherited from her mother, and her mother’s mother, and every female ancestor before her. They tell us the story of her mother’s genetic legacy.”

Felicity frowned. “What about her father’s?”

Oliver tapped the black-and-white DNA results with his fingertip. “Benvenguda’s human father is here, in her genome - that’s the DNA found in the nucleus - along with her mother, who was a witch.” He returned to the multicolored hoops. “But the mitochondrial DNA records only her maternal ancestry.”

Felicity knew about the genome, but she hadn’t heard much about mitochondrial DNA before. “Okay, so why are you studying both her genome and her mitochondrial DNA?”

“Well, your nuclear DNA tells us about you as a unique person. It’s the mixture of your father’s genes and your mother’s genes. Nuclear DNA allows us to understand the genetic history of you as an individual. Mitochondrial DNA can help us to understand the genetic history of a whole species.”

“That means the origin and evolution of the species are recorded in every one of us,” she said slowly.

“It’s in our blood and every cell in our body. But every origin story tells another tale – not of beginnings but of endings. Extinction. We use the markers in mitochondrial DNA to look at how species have developed through specific bloodlines.”

Examining Benvenguda’s colorful mitochondrial DNA hoops, Felicity glanced up and questioned, “Who was she?”

“A very powerful witch, who lived in Brittany in the seventh century,” Oliver said. He smiled a little. “She was a marvel, really, in an age that produced…” he paused, staring directly into Felicity’s eyes and looking rather spellbound for a moment, “... many marvels. Beatrice Good is one of her last-known direct descendants.” He opened Beatrice’s file folder, placing her mitochondrial test results next to those of Benvenguda.

“But they’re different,” she observed. The hoops had different colors in them, with shorter sections.

“Not so different,” Oliver corrected. “Beatrice’s DNA has fewer markers common among witches. This indicates that her ancestors, as the centuries passed, relied less and less on magic and witchcraft as they struggled to survive. Those changing needs began to force mutations in her DNA – mutations that pushed the magic aside. Less and less witches are being born due to lower birth rates, as Dinah pointed out - and with magical ability inheritance decreasing due to mutated genes... witch populations are declining.”

Felicity stared at him. She heard what he was hinting at; what he was trying to tell her, about what her own pushing aside of her magic could result in. “Beatrice’s ancestors pushed their magic aside, and that will eventually wipe out our species?”

“There does seem to be a pattern between denying power and the gradual population decline. But it’s not entirely the witches’ fault. Nature is to blame, too,” Oliver said sadly. “It seems that witches, like vampires, have also felt the pressures of surviving in a world that is increasingly human. Daemons, too. They exhibit less genius – which was how we used to distinguish them from the human population – and more madness. Higher suicide rates - which is why they’re dying out as well.”

“The humans aren’t dying out?”

Oliver tilted his head sideways. “Yes and no. We think that the humans have - until now - proved better at adapting. Their immune systems are more responsive, and they have a stronger urge to reproduce than creatures.”

“Once, the world was divided more evenly between humans and creatures,” Dinah murmured. 

“Now humans are in the majority and creatures make up only ten percent of the world’s population,” Roy commented.

Nodding in understanding, Felicity thought back to what Oliver had said about this lab being one studying evolution - and the genetic history of species. “You’re trying to find the first witch, aren’t you? Are you trying to find the first daemon and vampire as well?”

“Mostly we’re tracking how food, disease, and fluctuating birth and death rates affect the species, and how and when certain family lines go extinct,” Oliver told her.

“And is it really true we’re four distinct species, or do daemons, humans, vampires, and witches share a common ancestor?”

Oliver appeared surprised at this line of questioning. “Daemons, humans, vampires, and witches vary considerably at the genetic level. Vampires and witches have twenty-four chromosome pairs instead of twenty-three, and daemons have an extra single chromosome. That suggests that we don’t have a common ancestor. Considering that many creatures believe that vampires and daemons were actually created by witches in the first place, I doubt our species are connected. At least, connected beyond vampires’ abilities to transform the other species into our own. But vampire siring is a discussion topic for another day - it’s far too complex to get into now.”

“Okay. So you’ve explained your research… how does this tie into your interest in Ashmole 782?”

The vampire averted his eyes. He was fumbling with his pilgrim’s badge through his Henley again, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. “Well…”

Felicity huffed. She was sick and tired of Oliver avoiding answering her questions about the manuscript. “What were you doing in the fall of 1859?”

Oliver’s face immediately darkened.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Roy said with a nervous laugh, pointing towards the door. “Dinah and I are just going to -”

“ - check on those PCR runs,” Dinah cut in.

It was only once they were alone in the silent, cold lab that Oliver spoke again, the vampire’s voice low. “What has Malcolm Merlyn been telling you?”

Heart seizing with panic in her chest, Felicity tried to plaster on a calm expression, despite the fact she knew that Oliver could smell her fear. “That you were unlikely to share your secrets with a witch.”

He looked away, jaw tightening. For a moment, Felicity was afraid she’d pushed him too far. He was already revealing so much about himself and his research, provoking him into telling her more personal details could just cause him to clam up again. Finally, Oliver said, “In September 1859, I was looking through the manuscripts in the Ashmolean Museum.”

“... Why?”

“I’d recently finished reading a book manuscript that was soon going to press. It was written by a Cambridge naturalist.”

Felicity’s hand flew to her mouth as the significance of the date registered. Anyone who’d passed high-school biology knew Darwin’s On the Origin of Species.

“Darwin’s article the previous summer laid out his theory of natural selection, but the book was quite different. It was marvelous, the way he established easily observable changes in nature and inched humans toward accepting something so revolutionary.”

“But Ashmole 782 is an alchemy book. Alchemy has nothing to do with evolution.”

Oliver frowned, ordering the files they’d been examining and rising from his seat to store them back in their respective cabinets. “Lamarck believed that each species descended from different ancestors, and progressed independently toward higher forms of being. It’s incredibly similar to what alchemists believed - that the philosopher’s stone was the elusive end product of a natural transmutation of base metals, into more exalted metals like copper, silver, and gold.”

Remembering some of those old biology lessons, Felicity countered, “But Darwin disagreed with Lamarck, even if he did use the word ‘transmutation’ in his initial discussions of evolution.”

“He disagreed with linear transmutation, it’s true,” Oliver agreed. “But Darwin’s theory of natural selection can still be seen as a series of linked transmutations.”

“All right. So alchemy and evolution are linked. That explains your interest in alchemy, because it’s intertwined with your research here. But there are alchemical manuscripts all over the world. Why the Ashmole manuscripts?”

Oliver grinned. “When I read Darwin and saw how he seemed to explore the alchemical theory of transmutation through biology, I remembered stories about a mysterious book that explained the origin of our three species – daemons, witches, and vampires. I’d always dismissed them as ridiculous. Most suggested that the book was concealed from human eyes in an alchemical manuscript. The publication of Origin prompted me to look for it, and if such a book existed, Elias Ashmole would have bought it. He had an uncanny ability to find bizarre manuscripts.”

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “You were looking for it here in Oxford, near a hundred and sixty years ago?”

“Yes,” the vampire admitted. “And over a century before you received Ashmole 782, I was told that it was missing.”

Her heart sped up and her mouth became dry. Noticing, Oliver glanced over at her in concern. “Keep going,” Felicity prompted, waving him on.

“I’ve been trying to get my hands on it ever since. Every other Ashmole manuscript was there, and none seemed promising. I’ve looked at manuscripts in other libraries – at the Herzog August Bibliothek in Germany, the Bibliothèque Nationale in France, the Medici Library in Florence, the Vatican, the Library of Congress. The only manuscript I haven’t seen is Ashmole 782. By simple process of elimination, it must be the manuscript that contains our story, if it still survives.”

“You’ve looked at more alchemical manuscripts than I have.”

“Maybe,” Oliver confessed. “But it doesn’t mean I understand them as well as you do. What all the manuscripts I’ve seen have in common, though, is an absolute confidence that the alchemist can help one substance change into another, creating new forms of life.”

“That sounds like evolution,” Felicity said.

“Yes,” the vampire smiled. “It does. I believe that Ashmole 782 is actually just a simple alchemy book, but it hides The Book of Life - the book about the origin of creatures - inside of it. An alchemy book with complex language, detailed illustrations, and vague symbolism, which when interpreted could be used to describe the creation of certain chemicals, could hide these secrets in plain sight - just like Malcolm Merlyn hides his identity as a witch under the facade that he’s an expert in the occult sciences. But a book that contains hints and clues as to witch, vampire and daemon creation might allow us some insight into our evolution - and why our species are now declining in population.” He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest smugly. “And that’s how Ashmole 782 ties into my research.”

This was actually beginning to make sense to her.

“It’s hard to imagine such a book really exists,” Felicity said, dazed. “Everybody thinks the manuscript is something different… Merlyn said that he and the witches think that it contains the witch’s first spells.”

Scowling, the vampire muttered, “Merlyn thinks the whole world revolves around witches. I'm obviously not of that opinion.” 

“Who would be so stupid as to put so much information about creature origins in one place?”

Oliver shrugged. “As with all the legends about supernatural creatures, there’s at least a pinhead of truth in all the stories about the manuscript. We just have to find the needle within the haystack. Then we’ll begin to understand.”

Encouraged by his use of ‘we,’ she decided he’d earned some information. Exhaling, Felicity informed the vampire quietly, “I think you’re right about Ashmole 782. The book you’ve been seeking is inside it.”

“Go on,” Oliver said softly, trying to hide how he swallowed almost anxiously.

“It’s an alchemy book on the surface. But when I was looking at it, I noticed that some of the images contain errors, or deliberate mistakes – I still can’t decide which.” Felicity bit her lip in concentration as she tried to remember every detail about her encounter with the manuscript.

Oliver’s eyes fixed on the place where her teeth had drawn a tiny bead of blood to the surface. He very subtly shifted further away from her, placing some distance between them. “What do you mean ‘it’s an alchemy book on the surface’?”

“It’s a palimpsest. But the ink hasn’t been washed away. Magic is hiding the text. I almost missed the words, they’re hidden so well. But when I turned one of the pages, the light was at just the right angle and I could see lines of writing moving underneath.”

“Could you read it?” he asked urgently.

“No.” Her shoulders slumped. “If Ashmole 782 contains information about who we are, how we came to be, or even how we might become extinct, it’s deeply buried.”

“It’s fine if it remains buried,’ Oliver said grimly. “At least for now. But the time is quickly coming when we might need that book.” Walking away from the table, he placed a couple pieces of equipment back onto the shelves. “That’s enough science for today, I think.”

After saying goodbye to Roy and Dinah, they headed out from the labs and back towards New College. It was mid-afternoon, but the dreary weather made it seem later. As they walked side by side, Felicity shuddered as she felt the gaze of an unfamiliar vampire settled on her. It wasn’t an intense look, just a passing one, like he’d noticed the witch crossing the street, but it was enough to unnerve her. Said vampire, an older black-haired male, brushed past her. 

Oliver’s hand was lightning fast as he laced his fingers through Felicity’s. The contrast between the two of them was so striking; his skin so pale and cold, and Felicity’s so alive and warm in comparison. The vampire didn’t let go of her hand until they were outside New College’s gates.

Approaching the porter’s lodge, Oliver tapped on the glass. Rene looked up from where he was lounging in his chair, watching his security monitors and munching his way through a packet of crisps, surprised.

“I’d like to walk Dr Smoak to her rooms, if that’s alright,” Oliver said.

Rene eyed the John Radcliffe tag and then glanced between them, as if observing their close proximity, before he grinned and nodded.

“Oliver,” Felicity sighed. “It’s just across the way. You don’t have to walk me home.”

“I am, though,” he replied, in a tone that inhibited further discussion.

Beyond the lodge’s archways and out of Rene’s sight, he caught Felicity’s hand again. This time the shock of Oliver’s freezing skin was accompanied by an unexpected lick of warmth in the pit of the witch’s stomach.

Their time together had come to an end for today. But Felicity felt like they’d taken steps in their friendship - and perhaps a couple of steps beyond that. They needed to meet up again. She _wanted_ them to meet up again. Not in the Bodleian, but alone. There were many options to arrange this, but there was only one that really appealed to her at the moment.

Felicity frowned. “Oliver… would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?”

Oliver froze, confusion flitting over his face along with something Felicity couldn’t name. His fingers flexed slightly around the pilgrim’s badge before he released it. “You weren’t kidding when you said one day you’d spontaneously consent to dinner when I stopped asking, huh,” he joked.

“Is that a yes?”

He hesitated, but then agreed, “Yes, I would like to come to dinner. I’d be delighted.”

“Good,” Felicity grinned. “How’s seven thirty?”

The vampire nodded and gave her a shy smile. “Seven thirty it is.”

She managed to walk two steps before realizing there was one matter that needed to be resolved before tomorrow night. Flushing in embarrassment, Felicity asked hesitantly, “Um, please don’t be insulted… but what do you eat?”

Oliver laughed. “I’m omnivorous,” he said, his eyes bright with happiness. The sight made Felicity’s heart skip a beat.

“No other helpful hints or tips as to what foods you like?”

“Surprise me.”


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to split this chapter as it was farrrrrr too long
> 
> hope you enjoy!! thank you for all your support xx

Nothing in Felicity’s lacking culinary experience had ever taught her what to feed a vampire when he came for dinner. The day after the trip to Oliver’s lab, she spent the most of her morning at home on the internet, looking for recipes that involved raw foods. She texted Oliver to tell him she wasn’t going to the Libraries today as she was busy; she suspected he knew she was trying to research meals he could eat, because he replied back with a promise to arrive promptly for dinner.

Oliver had said he was omnivorous, but that couldn’t be true. A vampire must be more likely to tolerate uncooked food if he was used to a diet of blood. But Oliver was so civilized he would no doubt eat whatever Felicity put in front of him. Which was a good thing. Because Felicity considered herself a rather shitty cook. Sara and Nyssa did all the meal preparations when they all used to live together, and during her undergraduate years, Felicity had lived mostly off take-out and delivery food. Nyssa liked to teach her the basics of cooking when she went to stay with them in Madison in the summers, but that didn’t mean anything really; Felicity had a knack for remembering technical coding sequences and historical dates, not cooking skills and recipes.

Picking up her phone, she decided to call the Oxford zoology department. It was a long shot, but she knew Oliver had lived with wolves for months because of his previous research, so it was possible that he had picked up some of their feeding habits. After rattling off a long list of tasty mammals and explaining that they were ‘preferred foods,’ the bored voice on the other end of the line told her that grey wolves also ate nuts, seeds, and berries.

After lunch, she headed out of her rooms, deciding to visit Oxford’s Covered Market to pick up some supplies. As Felicity was walking out of New College, she noticed, to her astonishment, that Roy had parked Oliver’s black Jaguar across the street in one of the rarely free car park spaces and was perched on top of the bonnet, flicking through a generic medical magazine.

He hopped off the car and was at her side in an instant, a cheeky smile on his face. “Good morning.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t stop walking and didn’t respond.

“Oh, come on,” Roy grinned, sticking his hands in his red hoodie pockets and bumping her shoulder. She was glad for a moment that Oliver wasn’t here to witness it, because he most definitely would have snarled at the younger vampire for touching her. “Not even a short ‘hi’? I’m hurt, Dr Smoak.”

“I presume it’s not a coincidence you’re outside my college,” Felicity said dryly, continuing to walk towards Jesus College.

“After you told him you weren’t going out today, Oliver decided to head up to Cambridge for a conference this morning. Molecular biology techniques,” Roy grinned. “He suspected you might go for a run or shopping or something, so asked me to stake you out.”

A smile twitched at Felicity’s lips. “Is he always this controlling?”

“Oh, with us, yes. All the time. But with a witch, it’s definitely a first. That might be because you’re the first witch he’s ever shown interest in though.” He bounced at her side. “Where are we going?”

“Are you going to stick with me no matter where I go?”

“Yup. Oliver will become angry otherwise, and I hate it when he gets mad. He has this whole disappointed spiel that makes you feel like a five-year-old child who’s been caught drawing on the walls,” Roy shuddered. “And that’s saying something, considering I’m hundreds of years old.”

“You’re like a super dramatic, excited teenager whose enthusiasm is only curbed by his father’s disapproval,” Felicity muttered under her breath.

The vampire burst out laughing. “If only you knew how accurate that statement actually is. Come on, let me tag along. I won’t bother you. I promise.”

She sighed. “Okay, well, if you’re going to be following me, then I might as well utilize you. I’m going to be feeding Oliver tonight. I’ve done some research already and I think I have some general ideas, but feel like talking me through it?”

Roy nudged her with his elbow. “How about we make a deal? I’ll tell you what Oliver likes if you come to the labs to get your bloods done after we go shopping.”

She stopped and shot him a flat look.

“Come on, it will be interesting! Look, by examining DNA from witch remains, we’ve been able to identify five original clans. Don’t you want to find out which one the Smoaks belonged to?”

“Fine. I will allow you to take my blood if tell me whether I’m heading in the right direction or not when it comes to what courses I have planned for dinner.”

When they arrived at the Market, Felicity first stopped off at the butcher’s for fresh venison and rabbit, and then at the fishmongers for Scottish smoked salmon. Roy looked amused but also impressed at her choices, which indicated that her choices were pretty good. One of the grocers apologetically sold her the last of the summer’s blackcurrants and some fragrant wild strawberries. On Roy’s advice, a bag of chickpeas found its way into Felicity’s expanding shopping bag, too. Then it was off to the wine store, where at least Felicity knew what she was doing. She had reasonable knowledge when it came to wine, although Oliver was undoubtedly an expert. Roy really wasn’t much help in this aspect - apparently, he preferred beers and ciders to wine - but he did hint at a couple of things. In the end, with the guidance of the clerk, Felicity bought remarkably few French and German bottles of wine for a king’s ransom.

“Is that the last of it?” Roy questioned. “Can we head to the labs now?”

“You’re awfully eager to stick needles in my arms, Roy.”

“Singular needle, and I’ve never dealt with a live witch’s blood before. We’ve never known one to ask to volunteer.”

“And you can’t exactly contact the coven members of Oxford and request blood samples when you’re vampires, I’m guessing,” Felicity said, laughing.

“Yeah, they would probably get the wrong idea,” Roy grinned.

They dropped off the shopping in her rooms and packed all the food away in the fridge before clambering into the Jaguar and returning to the labs. Roy was actually bouncing with exhilaration as they made their way through all the security checkpoints. He’d obviously called ahead, because Dinah was waiting with a full blood collection kit ready, also looking quite excited.

“He managed to convince you, then,” the female vampire said in greeting.

“Roy can be persuasive,” Felicity chuckled.

“Before we start, I have to tell you, we have no way of predicting what the tests will reveal. It’s your whole life, and your family’s history, all laid out in black and white. Are you absolutely sure you want that scrutinized?”

“What do you mean, my whole life?”

“These tests tell us about a lot more than the color of your eyes and your hair. They’ll indicate what traits your mother and father passed down to you,” Dinah explained. 

“Not to mention traits from all your female ancestors,” Roy piped up. “We’ll be able to track all of your magical markers which will indicate what powers you possess, or will possess in the future.”

“That’s why I agreed to let you take a sample from me,” Felicity told her. Roy and Dinah exchanged confused looks. “I’ve wondered my whole life what the Smoak blood was doing as it pumped through my veins. Everyone who knew about my family wondered. Now we’ll know. Plus, it might be able to help me control my accidental magic.”

It all seemed very simple to her. Her blood could tell Oliver, Dinah and Roy things she didn’t want to risk discovering haphazardly. Felicity didn’t want to set fire to the furniture, or fly through the trees, or think a bad thought about someone only to have that person fall deathly ill two days later.

“Besides, you told me witches are dying out,” she added thoughtfully. “I’m the last Smoak. Maybe my blood will help you with your research.”

Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Dinah pushed her down into a chair, preparing the equipment she would need to take her blood. Roy rushed out of the room while Felicity rolled up her shirt sleeve to expose her blood vessels, only to return a second later with a box full of sharps and vials. As Dinah was tying a piece of rubber tubing around Felicity’s arm, a fearsome growl echoed through the lab, originating from the doorway.

Oliver peered at them all with fierce blue eyes, his gaze deadly as he stalked inside. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Get away from her.”

“Felicity offered,” Roy claimed quickly, looking nervous.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Oliver hissed.

“Either way, she consented,” Dinah said.

Oliver’s anger only flared at that. “If she was pressured into it, it’s not true consent.”

“Oliver.” His eyes flashed over to her. His pupils were so huge that they appeared almost black, none of the beautiful blue shining through. Giving him a reassuring smile, Felicity informed him gently, “It’s okay.”

“You said you weren’t going out today,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I needed to go grocery shopping,” she blushed. “Besides, I had Roy with me.”

Oliver aimed a glower at the younger vampire. “And I’m regretting asking him to keep an eye on you now. I’m glad I came back from Cambridge early.” He then turned a dirty look towards Dinah. “You should have texted me to let me know Felicity was coming in.”

“I didn’t, and for good reason,” she replied briskly. “I knew you would react like this. Felicity is giving us blood samples willingly, so you can stop implying that we forced her into it. You would be able to smell if I was lying. Am I?”

Inhaling, the male vampire answered in a mutter, “No.”

“Then we don’t have a problem, do we?” Dinah swung a lamp around to shine the light down onto Felicity’s arm, which made the witch’s blood vessels appear even bluer. “You have good veins,” she said approvingly.

That elicited a warning purr from Oliver, who shouldered past the female vampire to stand in front of Felicity protectively, curled his hand over her shoulder.

“Oliver, if this is going to be an issue for you, you can wait outside,” Dinah rolled her eyes, picking up the capped needle that would soon be piercing Felicity’s skin.

“No. Stop. Now,” he ordered. Looking down at the witch with an unreadable expression on his face, the vampire continued softly, “If any vampire is going to take her blood, it’s going to be me.”

Dinah dipped her head in acknowledgment, handing the equipment over to Oliver and backing away. She crossed the room to lean against the counter beside Roy, watching them carefully. Holding Felicity’s wrist in his cold fingers, Oliver bent her arm up and down a few times before extending it fully and resting her hand carefully on his knee. Felicity couldn’t deny that there was something creepy about having a vampire stick a needle into her vein. But he was being so gentle and tender with her that she couldn’t help but feel relaxed. Adjusting the tourniquet on her arm, Oliver pulled on a pair of gloves, preparing the hollow needle and the first blood vial.

“Are you sure you’re all right doing this?” Felicity asked quietly.

“If you seriously think I’m going to let Dinah or Roy do this, then you’re mistaken. I have incredible control when it comes to thirst and I will be fine. Make a fist,” he requested.

Felicity did as he asked, clenching her hand and watching the veins bulge. Oliver didn’t bother with the usual announcement that she would feel a prick or a sting. He just leaned down without ceremony and slid the sharp metal instrument into her arm. It pinched slightly and Felicity had to resist the urge to flinch, but it wasn’t as painful as she’d been expecting. 

“Nicely done,” he praised, raising his free hand to brush his thumb across her cheek in a gesture of comfort. Felicity blinked, swallowing. He’d never done that with her before.

“I probably should have mentioned I don’t like needles,” she murmured, eyes closed.

“The worst part is over. I’m going to take three vials, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” she nodded.

She loosened her fist to get the blood flowing freely. Oliver gritted his teeth while he changed vials. When he was finished, he withdrew the needle and tossed it into a sealed biohazard container. A bead of blood welled to the surface of the tiny wound. Immediately, Oliver looked away and closed his eyes, as if restraining himself. But it only lasted a moment. Seconds later, he was back to focusing on the wound, stimulating it lightly to ensure that he hadn’t damaged the vein. He was right. He did have great thirst control. One of the other vampires, though, did not. Felicity froze when she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her, followed by a faint growl.

“Roy, get out,” Oliver snapped, his eyes flying open and focusing on the younger vampire over her shoulder. “Right now. Before you do something you regret and I have to put you down.” There was the sound of a door opening and then slamming shut.

“What was that?” she whispered.

Placing a square of gauze over the stick sight, Oliver held it there with strong, cold fingers as he apologized, “I’m sorry. Roy is still relatively young in vampire terms and he still finds it hard to curb his thirst when there’s somebody actively bleeding around him. He won’t harm you, I promise. I won’t let him.” He picked up a roll of adhesive tape and attached it securely across the pad, securing the gauze over the wound.

“Okay,” Felicity murmured, her heart hammering in her chest. She believed him.

Dinah came over with a tight expression and took the now full blood vials, labeling them in tiny, precise script. “Date of birth?”

“August thirteenth, 1989.”

Dinah stared at her. “August thirteenth?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Just being certain,” she muttered.

Oliver opened a package and removed two white pieces of plastic. They were shaped like miniature paddles, the wide ends slightly rough. “In most cases, we like to take a cheek swab, too. Gives us more DNA results to compare, makes it all the more accurate.” Wordlessly, Felicity opened her mouth and let the vampire twirl first one swab, then the other, against the inside of her cheek. Each swab went into a different sealed plastic tube. “All done.”

“How long until the results come through?” she asked curiously.

Dinah shrugged. “At least a couple of days - a week, at most. I’ll prioritize them and start on them now.”

“And I’m going to take you home,” Oliver said. “No arguments. I don’t know how Roy managed to convince you to come here and get your bloods done, but your adrenaline is very high and you need rest.”

He dropped her off at the gates, looking annoyed when Felicity protested against him walking her up to her rooms. On her way through the college, she stopped off at the porter’s lodge to inform them that a Professor Oliver Queen would be coming to visit her tonight. Rene waggled his eyebrows suggestively but Felicity just stuck her tongue out at him.

Back in her rooms, Felicity swept all the papers off a battered eighteenth-century table, moving it closer to the fireplace. Setting the table carefully, she used the old porcelain and silver that was in her cupboards, along with heavy crystal glasses that had to be the final remainders of an Edwardian set once used in the senior common room. Rene must have been spreading the news around that Felicity was having somebody over for dinner, because the loyal kitchen ladies came to visit her, and supplied her with crisp white linen tablecloths and serviettes.

Once Felicity started making dinner, it became clear that cooking for a vampire didn’t take much time; she didn’t actually cook much of anything, which was a good thing, because she was a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. By seven pm the candles were lit, the food was ready, except for what could be done only at the last minute, and all she had to do was change and sort out her hair. Her wardrobe contained precious little clothes that said ‘dinner with a vampire.’ She was running late, so there wasn’t any time to try outfits on and pick one out. After ten minutes of indecision, Felicity chose a short-sleeved, midnight blue dress and spent another ten minutes taming her hair with a pair of straighteners.

Felicity was sticking a pair of silver arrow-shaped earrings through her ears when there was a knock at the door. Her heart fluttered at the sound, as if this were a date. She squashed the thought immediately. This was just a dinner between... friends. She glanced over at the clock to see what the time was; Oliver was five minutes early.

After checking herself in the mirror one last time, the witch rushed to the door. “Sorry, I’m running -” The door swung open, revealing Malcolm Merlyn standing there, glaring hatefully. “ - Late,” she finished, breathless as fear swamped her.

Merlyn shoved past her, storming into her rooms without invitation. “Expecting somebody?” he asked, his voice scathing.

“Get out!” Felicity exclaimed angrily. “You can’t just barge in here without asking. Leave!”

He ignored her, staring down at the table in disbelief. “You’re _feeding_ him? You shy away from your fellow witches yet seek out vampire company?”

“I’m not a bigot like you,” she spat.

“You’re just like your father,” Merlyn turned his nose up at her. “So _open-minded_ that he put himself and your mother in mortal danger.”

Creaking from the corridor outside caused both of them to turn to the door. Oliver stood framed in the doorway, a furious, feral look in his eyes. In a break with his usual habits, he was wearing unadulterated black, which only made him look more striking - more a vampire. Felicity barely blinked, and he was behind her, chest pressed to her back, hand on her shoulder and lips drawn back in a silent snarl towards the male witch. Merlyn looked between them both warily. He was much less confident now that Oliver was here.

“Mr Merlyn,” the vampire acknowledged, his voice low.

“Mr Queen,” Merlyn replied through clenched teeth.

Squeezing her shoulder lightly, Oliver questioned, “What’s going on here?”, sounding utterly lethal.

“Mr Merlyn was just leaving,” Felicity said coldly.

“We’re not done,” Merlyn sneered.

“I think you are,” Oliver responded, with a threatening purr.

With one last disgusted shake of his head, Merlyn stalked out. Felicity remained rooted in place while the vampire darted out from behind her to slam the door shut, locking it. As soon as it was secured, he flashed back to her side, his hands stroking down her shoulders and arms as he checked her over worriedly.

“Are you all right? He didn’t try and hurt you, did he?”

“I’m fine. He just gave me a shock.”

Oliver looked upset. “I told you he wouldn’t get within fifty feet of you again.”

“Fifty feet was an ambitious distance to aim for,” she replied.

“He got within five feet of you today.” He emitted a frustrated rumble. “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“Hey, it’s okay. He didn’t touch me.”

“But he scared you, I can smell it.”

“Yes, well. You’re here now. I’m not scared anymore.” Pointing at the bottle of wine he was cradling under his arm, Felicity questioned, “You brought wine?”

The mention of the alcohol swiftly changed the tense atmosphere into a warm, teasing one.

“Yes, I’ve been saving it for a while and thought tonight might be the best time to finally open it up.” He weighed the bottle in his hand. “Is there somewhere we can put this until dessert?”

Taking it from him, she placed it on the back of the fireplace mantel. “There we go. Are you hungry?” She’d completely forgotten the obligatory nibbles and drinks she was supposed to serve before dinner.

“I could eat,” the vampire said with a grin.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with ch14! and a big happy birthday to @MuseOlivers on twitter xxx
> 
> thank you for all your support and comments guys, i haven't had much time to respond to all of them lately but please know i really appreciate them and love reading them!

Safely back in the kitchen, Felicity pulled two pre-prepared plates out of the fridge. The first course was Scottish smoked salmon with fresh dill sprinkled on top, with lemon slices to garnish the starter. She’d looked the recipe up online, but she wasn’t about to tell the vampire that.

When she returned with the food, Oliver was waiting by the chair that was farthest from the kitchen. He’d been examining the bottle of German Riesling white wine that had been placed in a high-sided silver coaster Felicity been using to hold change, but which one of the helpful kitchen ladies had explained was actually intended to hold wine. The vampire sat down while Felicity extracted the cork and poured two glasses, cautious not to spill a drop.

As the witch settled down in her own hair, she noticed that Oliver seemed to be lost in concentration, holding the Riesling in front of his nose and sniffing at it inquisitively. She wondered how many sensory receptors vampires had in their noses, as opposed to other animals with extreme senses. She was ashamed to admit that she really didn’t know the first thing about other creature species.

“Very nice,” Oliver finally commented. Felicity couldn’t detect a hint of deception in his voice. He actually seemed to like the wine. “And the salmon looks great.”

The vampire picked up his cutlery and speared a piece of the fish. Watching him from under her lashes to see if he could actually eat it, the witch cut a sliver of the salmon from her own plate and popped it into her mouth. It tasted incredible, as clean and fresh as water straight from a spring.

As Oliver swallowed his mouthful with a pleased look and went to cut another slice, Felicity blurted out, “Can you really eat this?”

Oliver laughed. “Yes, I can. I happen to like smoked salmon.”

So Roy’s nodding of approval when she chose the fish earlier on had been because he knew the older vampire enjoyed it. “But you don’t eat everything,” Felicity guessed, turning her attention back to her plate.

“No,” he admitted. “Not everything. But I can manage a few bites of most food. It doesn’t taste like much to me, though, unless it’s raw.”

“That’s odd, considering that vampires have such heightened senses. I’d think that all food would taste wonderful to you.”

He picked up his wineglass and looked into the pale, golden liquid. “Wine tastes wonderful. Food tastes wrong to a vampire once it’s been cooked to death.”

“Or dead at all?”

His eyes twinkled. “Precisely. But that doesn’t really go over well at dinner. Raw food is the best.”

Felicity reviewed their menu for the evening with enormous relief. But then she remembered how many times Oliver had asked her out to dinner, and frowned in confusion. “If food doesn’t taste good to you, why do you keep inviting me out to eat?”

Oliver twizzled his fork around a longer piece of salmon. “It’s easier to be around you when you’re eating. The smell of cooked food nauseates me.” He paused, letting that sink in. Felicity just shook her head, puzzled. He sighed in exasperation. “As long as I’m nauseated, I’m not hungry. Or _thirsty_.”

The pieces clicked together. She already knew he liked the way she smelled and that he’d run off to Scotland over the weekend because of how that made him feel. Felicity flushed crimson, embarrassed. “Oh.”

“I thought you knew that about vampires,” Oliver said with a very sad smile. “I thought that was why you invited me for dinner.”

Felicity shook her head, tucking another little bundle of salmon together. “I probably know less about vampires than most humans do. And the little my old coven, Nyssa and Sara taught me has to be treated as highly suspect, given the Madison witches’ prejudices. Sara has always been very clear when talking about your diet. She said vampires will consume only blood, because it’s all you need to survive. But that isn’t true, is it?”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “No. You need water to survive. Is that all you drink?” he asked, his tone suddenly frosty.

“Should I not be talking about this?” she asked quietly, nerves firing up again. Her questions were making him angry.

“It’s not really something creatures of separate species discuss,” the vampire replied, after considering her question for a long, silent moment. “I drink wine and can eat food. Preferably uncooked food, or if that’s not possible, food that’s cold, so that it doesn’t smell.”

“But the food and wine don’t nourish you,” she hypothesized. “You feed on blood – all kinds of blood.” He flinched and averted his eyes. “And you obviously don’t have to wait outside until I invite you into my house. You proved that this evening. What else do I have wrong about vampires?”

Oliver’s face shifted into an expression of long-suffering patience. He sat back in his chair, taking the wine glass with him. He’d almost finished the glass, so Felicity quickly stood up slightly and reached across the table to pour him some more. If she was going to interrogate him, she could at least supply him with wine to get through it without going insane.

Leaning over the candles, she almost set her hair on fire. Oliver hastily grabbed the wine bottle. “Why don’t I do that?” he suggested. “Don’t want you to accidentally burn yourself.”

“Good idea,” she replied, sitting back down sheepishly.

He poured himself some more wine and topped up her glass as well before he answered. “Most of what you know about vampires are legends, dreamed up by humans. They’re inaccurate, in some cases completely wrong, but that makes it possible for humans to live around us. Creatures frighten them. And I’m not talking solely about vampires.”

“Black pointy hats, black cats, brooms, and potions.” It was what humans associated with witchcraft lore, which burst into spectacular, ridiculous life every year on Halloween.

“Exactly. Somewhere in each of these stories, there’s a speck of truth, something that frightened humans and helped them deny we were real. The strongest distinguishing characteristic of humans is their power of denial. I have strength and long life, you have magical abilities, daemons have awe-inspiring creativity. Humans can convince themselves up is down and black is white.”

Felicity took a sip of her wine. “What’s the truth in the story about vampires not being allowed inside without an invitation?”

“Humans are with us all the time. They just refuse to acknowledge our existence because we don’t make sense to them. Once they allow us in – see us for who we really are – then we’re there to stay. They can’t ignore us anymore.”

“So it’s like the stories of sunlight,” Felicity said slowly. “It’s not that you can’t be in sunlight, but when you are, it’s harder for humans to ignore you. Rather than admit that you’re walking among them, humans tell themselves you can’t survive the light.”

Oliver nodded. “They manage to ignore us anyway, of course. We can’t stay indoors until it’s dark. But we make more sense to humans after twilight – and that goes for you, too. You should see the looks when you walk into a room or down the street.” Felicity glanced at him doubtfully. Witches looked very similar to most humans. “You don’t believe me, I know. But it’s true. When humans see a creature in broad daylight, it makes them uneasy. We’re too much for them. Too tall, too strong, too confident, too creative, too powerful, too _different_. They try so hard to push our square pegs into their round holes, every day. At night it’s a bit easier for them to dismiss us as merely odd.”

Felicity stood up and removed the fish plates, happy to see that Oliver had actually eaten all of his salmon. The vampire poured a bit more of the German wine into both of their glasses while she fetched the next course plates. Each one held neatly arranged, thin slices of raw venison. She didn’t really know if vampires liked vegetables or not, but she organized little mounds of cubed beets in the center of each plate and shaved Parmesan on top.

As she dropped the plates down onto the table, Felicity pulled out a broad-bottomed decanter full of red wine, a drink much more suited to the red meat than the Reisling, and two fresh glasses. The new wine very quickly caught Oliver’s attention, and he snagged the decanter to poured them both an inch of the dark scarlet liquid.

He raised his glass to his nose, scenting it. “Côte-Rôtie,” he noted with satisfaction. “One of my favorites.” That had been one of the wines Roy had eyed with a smirk in the shop.

“You can tell what wine it is just from smelling it?”

“Some vampire stories are true,” he chuckled. “I have an exceptional sense of smell - you already knew that, though - and excellent sight and hearing, too. But even a human could tell that this was Côte-Rôtie.” He closed his eyes and sniffed again. “Is it 2003?”

She gaped, amazed. “Yes! Does your nose tell you who made it?”

“Yes, but that’s because I’ve walked the fields where the grapes were grown,” Oliver confessed, as if he’d been caught pulling a trick on her.

“You can smell the fields in this?”

“Sometimes I believe I can remember everything I’ve ever smelled. It’s probably vanity,” he said ruefully. “Scents bring back powerful memories. I remember the first time I smelled chocolate as if it were yesterday.”

“Really?” Felicity leaned forward, intrigued.

He smiled. “It was 1615. War hadn’t broken out yet, and the French king had married a Spanish princess that no one liked – especially not the king. She brought chocolate to Paris. It was as bitter as hell and as decadent, too. We drank it straight, mixed with water and no sugar.”

“It sounds awful,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “Thank god someone figured out that chocolate deserved to be sweet.”

“That was a human, I’m afraid. The vampires liked it bitter and thick.”

They picked up their forks and started in on the venison. As Oliver chewed on a piece, his eyes appeared to light up in recognition. “Red deer. A young Highlands stag, from the taste of it.”

Felicity was stunned at how accurate his senses were.

“As I said,” Oliver grinned. “Some of the stories are true.”

“Can you fly?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

He snorted. “Of course not. We leave that to the witches, since you can control the elements. But we’re strong and fast. Vampires can run and jump, which makes humans think we can fly. We’re efficient, too. Our bodies don’t waste much energy. We have a lot of it to spend on moving when we need to.”

“You don’t breathe much,” Felicity remembered. She took a long swig of the wine. She wasn’t sure she liked the taste of raw venison.

“No. Our hearts don’t beat very often.” He paused, and then added, “We don’t need to eat much. We run cold, which slows down most bodily processes and helps explain why we live so long.”

“The coffin story! You don’t sleep much, but when you do, you sleep like the dead.”

“You’re getting the hang of this, I see,” he nodded, amused.

Oliver’s plate was empty of everything except for the beets, and hers was empty except for half of the venison. Felicity cleared away the second course and invited him to pour more wine. The main dish was the only part of the meal that required heat, and not much of it. She’d already baked some bizarre biscuit-esque crackers from ground roasted chickpeas. All that was left for her to do was sear some rabbit. She ground up some black pepper and sprinkled rosemary and thyme over the rabbit while it seared in the pan. Leaving Oliver’s rabbit a little underdone, Felicity cooked her own portion a bit more than was required, in the hope that it would get the taste of raw venison out of her mouth.

“This is cooked, but barely.”

The vampire’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think this is some kind of test, do you?”

“No, no, no,” she said hurriedly. “I’m just… not used to entertaining vampires.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he murmured. “If you were, I’d be very alarmed.” He bent over to give the rabbit a sniff. “It smells delicious.” As he forked up a bit of the biscuit, his eyes widened. “Chickpeas?”

“Roasted chickpeas, olive oil, and a bit of baking powder.”

“And salt. And water, cloves, rosemary, and pepper,” he commented calmly, taking a bite.

“Given your dietary restrictions, it’s a good thing you can figure out exactly what you’re putting in your mouth,” she teased.

With most of the meal behind them, Felicity began to relax. She’d fed Oliver, and it had gone reasonably well. They chatted about Oxford while she cleared the plates and brought cheese and berries to the table. She placed an empty bowl between the two of them for the nutshells and berry stems. She watched as Oliver took one of the blackcurrants, rolling it between his fingers gently before popping it into his mouth, savoring its tart juices.

“What do I smell like?” Felicity wondered aloud.

For a few moments, it seemed as though Oliver wasn’t going to answer. He stared at her with wild, stormy eyes, looking like a cornered wolf. The silence stretched thin before the vampire closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You smell of willow sap. And chamomile that’s been crushed underfoot. There are honeysuckle and fallen oak leaves, too, along with blooming witch hazel and the first narcissus of spring.” He exhaled slowly, sounding wistful as he continued, “And ancient things – horehound, frankincense, lady’s mantle. Scents I thought I’d forgotten.” His eyes opened slowly, and he met Felicity’s gaze easily. “What about me?”

Felicity hesitated at first, but then admitted, “Cedarwood. Roasted cacao - similar to very intense dark chocolate. And the ocean breeze… not the seaweed, but the salty freshness.”

“Not bad for a witch,” Oliver inclined his head. He sat back in his chair again, surveying her face with little flicks of his eyes. “How did you decide what to serve for dinner tonight?”

“Well, it wasn’t magic. The internet, Roy and the zoology department helped a lot,” she explained.

The strawberry within Oliver’s fingers tumbled onto the tabletop as he broke out laughing. “You asked the zoology department what to make me for dinner? I suppose I can’t really fault them. It’s been a very long time since someone made me a meal I could properly enjoy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled.

“Time for the wine I bought us for dessert.”

Oliver rose to collect it, asking Felicity to fetch two fresh glasses from the kitchen. An old, slightly lopsided bottle was sitting on the table when she got back. It had a faded label with simple lettering and a coronet. Oliver was working the corkscrew carefully into a cork that was crumbly and black with age. His nostrils flared immediately when he pulled it free, a blissful expression on his face as he scented it. The wine that came out of the bottle was syrupy, its golden color glinting in the light of the candles.

“Smell it,” the vampire commanded, handing the witch one of the glasses. “Tell me what you think.”

“It smells like caramels and raspberries,” Felicity said in awe, wondering how something so yellow could smell of something red.

“Very good.” Oliver was watching her closely, interested in her reactions. “Take a sip,” he suggested.

The wine’s sweet flavors exploded in Felicity’s mouth. Vibrant apricots and vanilla cream danced across her tongue, and her mouth tingled with them long after she’d swallowed. It was like drinking magic.

“What is this?” she finally questioned, after the taste of the wine had faded.

“It was made from grapes picked a long, long time ago,” Oliver told her. “That summer was incredibly hot and sunny, and the farmers were worried that the rains were going to come and ruin the crops. But the weather held, and they got the grapes in just before the weather changed.”

“You can taste the sunshine.”

Oliver smiled at her beautifully. “During the harvest, a comet blazed over the vineyards. It had been visible through astronomers’ telescopes for months, but in October, it was so bright you could almost read by its light. The workers saw it as a sign that the grapes were blessed.”

Felicity frowned. “Was this in 1986? Was it Halley’s comet?”

The vampire shook his head. “No, it was 1811. Halley’s comet came in 1759 and 1835.”

Felicity stared in astonishment at the almost two-hundred-year-old wine in her glass. “Where did you get it?” The wine store by the train station did not have any wine like this.

“I bought it from Antoine-Marie as soon as he told me it was going to be extraordinary,” Oliver said, as if it was no big deal. “It’s a Château Yquem.”

“And you’ve had it ever since,” Felicity murmured. He’d drunk chocolate in Paris in 1615 and received a building permit from Henry VIII in 1536; of course he was buying wine in 1811. And there was the ancient-looking ampulla he was wearing around his neck, the cord visible at his throat. “Oliver,” she whispered, observing him for any early warning signs of anger. “How old are you?”

His mouth hardened, but he kept his voice light. “I’m older than I look.”

“I know that,’ Felicity said impatiently. “But actually how old are you?”

“Why is my age important?”

“I’m a historian. If somebody tells me he remembers when chocolate was introduced into France or a comet passing overhead in 1811, it’s difficult not to be curious about the other events he might have lived through. You were alive in 1536; I’ve been to the house you had built.”

There was a start of a small smile on his face.

“Did you know Machiavelli? Live through the Black Death? Attend the University of Paris when Abelard was teaching there?”

Oliver stared at her, silent. There was an amused glimmer in his eyes, as if he was entertained by her deductive work. The hair on the back of Felicity’s neck started to prickle.

“Your pilgrim’s badge tells me you were once in the Holy Land. Did you go on crusade? See Halley’s comet pass over Normandy in 1066?”

He didn’t react.

“Watch Charlemagne’s coronation? Survive the fall of Carthage?”

The vampire smirked. The look he fixed on her was purely sensual. “Which fall of Carthage?”

“You tell me! I want to know everything!”

“If I tried to tell you everything about my life, that would take years,” he muttered under his breath, his hand flexing on the tablecloth. He drained his wine glass and didn’t move to top it up. Oliver appeared to struggle over what to say. “I believe that my body is nearly thirty-one years of age. I was born around the time Clovis converted to Christianity. My parents remembered that, or I’d have no idea. We didn’t keep track of birthdays back then. It’s easier to just pick the date of 500 AD.” He looked up at Felicity, briefly, and then returned his attention to the candles. His voice was weary as he continued, “I was reborn a vampire in 531. You’ve touched on most of the high and low points in the millennium between then and the year I put the keystone into the Old Lodge.”

Oliver Queen was more than fifteen hundred years old.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried,” Felicity whispered.

“It’s all right. As you said, you’re a historian. It’s only natural for you to be curious.”

The witch propped her elbow on the table, leaning on her hand. “Can I ask you another question? Do you have to change your name? Living so long, I can’t imagine you keep the same one, lest you attract human attention.”

“I always keep my Christian name,” Oliver said with a gentle smile. “Otherwise, yes.”

“What is your real name then?”

The vampire sighed and admitted, “Oliver de Reine.”

 _De Reine._ ‘Of Queen’. Felicity grinned. “You’re French?”

“Don’t you ask a lot of questions,” Oliver chuckled. “I took my mother’s name when she sired me. I always like to keep my surname close to my real one though. Stick with the royalty theme; Prince, King, Duke… Queen.” Brushing himself down, he stood. “I should go. It’s late.” He was at the door before Felicity could stop him. When he reached for the doorknob and gave it a twist, it rattled, and the catch sprang open. He frowned. “Have you had trouble with your lock?”

“No,” Felicity said in confusion, pushing the mechanism in and out. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“You should have somebody look at that.” The vampire continued to jiggle the door’s hardware. “It might not close properly until you do.” When he glanced up at her again, his gaze softened. “Thank you for this evening. I had a wonderful time.”

“Was the dinner really okay?” the witch asked worriedly.

“It was more than okay,” he assured me. “It was lovely.”

Before Felicity could stop herself, she was stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss Oliver quickly on the cheek. His skin felt smooth and cold like satin, and her lips felt unusually warm against his flesh. She instantly realized what she had done and her cheeks reddened. Why had she done that? The moment was over in a matter of seconds, but as Felicity knew from using magic to get _Notes and Queries_ off the Bodleian’s shelf, a few seconds was all it took for something to change your life. Oliver appeared as shocked as her, and studied Felicity cautiously.

“Come to dinner tomorrow,” he said. “My turn to cook.”

Felicity’s heart leaped. She tried to tell herself to decline, but instead, “I’d love to,” came out of her mouth.

“Can I pick you up here at seven?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When he leaned in, and she showed no sign of hysteria or an inclination to make a run for it, Oliver brushed his lips against her cheeks twice, in the French manner. His face skimmed against hers as he drew away, eyes shimmering, and he inhaled again to drink in her scent for the final time that evening. When he straightened, Oliver’s eyes looked smokier than usual. 

“ _Mon rayon de soleil_ ,” he whispered. He hit her with a genuinely happy smile. “Good night, Felicity.”

Once the door was closed behind Oliver, Felicity stood in place, frozen still for a moment as she tried to process everything that had happened. Shaking herself out of it after five minutes or so, she crossed to the window and looked down into the courtyard, only to see Oliver looking up at her. She waved. He smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and turned away, striding out of the college grounds.

The vampire slipped into the night’s darkness as if it belonged to him.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry for missing the update on wednesday. i was making very Adult Decisions and laying down a deposit for my first house, which was pretty stressful. thank you for all your patience!!
> 
> so as the holiday season approaches, i'm not going to have as much time to write or even post. that means that updates are going to drop from twice every week to once.
> 
> updates will occur on **wednesdays** from now on. next update will be next wednesday on december 5th x
> 
> this is a longer chapter and a LOT happens in it... hope you enjoy!

It was quarter to seven in the evening and Felicity was finishing styling her hair up into a neat bun, ready to meet Oliver, when she heard arguing outside her window.

It was originating from the courtyard. Zipping up the side of the red dress she was wearing, the witch shifted to the window so she could glance down, squinting. The sun had already set mostly, so the only lights bathing the pathways were dim security lamps; despite this, she could clearly see Oliver standing outside and waiting for her, even though the dark grey suit he was wearing helped him blend into the shadows. Dinah was standing opposite him, arms crossed over her chest. The two vampires appeared to be exchanging heated words. Felicity could faintly hear what they were arguing about through the thick glass panes, although their voices were muffled.

“What you and she are doing is stupidly risky,” Dinah was saying. “You’re craving her. Does she know?”

“Felicity is aware,” Oliver snapped. “And how I feel about her is none of your goddamn business, Dinah.”

“She’s a _witch_. You’re a _vampire_. You seriously think whatever _this_ is that you have going on between you two is going to work out?” Dinah’s eyes darted upwards to meet Felicity’s. Blushing, she immediately stepped away from the window, embarrassed she’d been caught. “We’re being eavesdropped on.”

There was a tense beat of silence. The witch wondered for a brief moment if Oliver would be angry at her for listening in, until he called out, “I’ll be up in a minute, Felicity.”

“Okay,” she replied nervously. She knew that even though she wasn’t raising her voice, the vampire’s enhanced senses would allow him to hear her.

Five minutes later, Oliver was standing outside her door with a hesitant smile. His annoyance from his conversation with Dinah was gone, replaced with a rather endearing nervousness. He looked satisfied at the fact that the lock fixture had been tightened up that morning, after Felicity had reported it to security.

“Hi,” she greeted him.

His gaze flickered over her, leaving its trail of snowflakes. “You look lovely.”

Felicity ducked her head, and the usual stray piece of hair fell over her face. The vampire reached up as he had several times recently and tucked it behind her ear. As he did so, he inhaled sharply, a glimmer in his blue eyes that meant he had picked up a new scent.

“What do you smell?” she whispered.

“You,” he breathed. After a moment, Oliver dragged his eyes away from her face, looking as if it was a struggle to do so, and said, “Are you ready to go?”

A little shaky after that, Felicity switched off all the lights and locked up. They halted at the porter’s lodge to tell them she would be arriving back late that night, and Oliver patiently withstood Rene’s close inspection as the porter logged it in the book.

“We’ll see you later, Dr Smoak,” Rene said deliberately.

“See you later, Rene.”

“You seem to always bring out people’s protective instincts,” Oliver commented, as they linked arms and they walked down and out of New College together.

“I’m a young woman going out with a tall, mysterious stranger, of course Rene is going to be suspicious.” Dinah was gone at this point, and there was no sign of the Jaguar in the street. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to be dining in college tonight,” he answered.

Felicity was surprised. She’d fully anticipated he would take her to the Old Lodge for dinner. They continued through the well-lit and now quiet streets of Oxford, talking about their days, which had been spent separately. It was cold and Felicity hadn’t thought they’d be walking, so she hadn’t brought a coat along. As soon as she began to shiver, Oliver shed his suit blazer and insisted on draping it over her shoulders. When they passed by the entrance to Hertford College without stopping, Felicity tightened her arm around Oliver’s. There was one college in Oxford which was notorious for its exclusivity and rigid attention to protocol. It was the same college famous for its brilliant fellows.

“You’re not... ”

“Why does it matter what college I belong to?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” she asked in disbelief.

Seeing the expression on her face, he frowned. “If you’d rather go somewhere more public to eat, of course, I understand.”

“I’m not concerned you’re going to eat me for dinner, Oliver. I’ve just... never been inside.”

A pair of ornate, scrolled gates guarded his college as if it were a palace for royalty. As Felicity attempted to peer through them, the vampire made an impatient noise and caught her hand. “It’s just a collection of people in a set of old buildings.” His matter-of-fact tone did nothing to detract from the fact that he was one of six dozen or so fellows in a college that had no students. “Besides, we’re not sitting at high table, we’re going to my rooms.”

The two of them walked the remaining distance, passing through a low wooden door that kept the public out of his college’s quiet confines. There was no one in the lodge except the porter. It was as quiet and hushed.

Oliver looked down at her with a shy smile. “Welcome to All Souls.”

All Souls College was a masterpiece of late Gothic architecture with its airy spires and delicate stonework. Oliver was definitely going to have a lot of explaining to do later to explain how he managed to get in here, considering how exclusive it was. Only the best of the best got into All Souls.

“Good evening, Rory,” he greeted the porter.

“You have a guest this evening, Professor Queen,” Rory replied, looking Felicity up and down with a grin.

Oliver shot him a stern look. “Hey. Stop it.”

“Just making an observation,” the porter quipped. He winked at Felicity as they strode into the college, and the witch tried not to blush.

They went up to his rooms, which were grander than Felicity had imagined in some ways, yet much less grand in others. They were smaller than her own rooms at New College, located at the very top of one of the oldest blocks in All Souls, which was full of funny angles and odd slopes. Though the ceilings were tall enough to accommodate Oliver’s height, the rooms still seemed too small to contain him. He had to stoop through every door. What the rooms lacked in size, they more than made up for in furnishings. A faded Aubusson rug stretched across the floors, anchored with a collection of pristine furniture. Somehow the fifteenth-century architecture, the eighteenth-century rug, and the nineteenth-century rough-hewn oak tables and cabinets around the room looked wonderful together.

A vast refectory table stood at the far side of the main room, with newspapers, books, and the assorted detritus of academic life neatly arranged at one end – memos about new scientific ethical policies, scholarly journals, requests for letters and peer reviews. At the other end of the table, a soft black linen cloth had been thrown over the wood, held down by beautiful Georgian silver candlesticks. A full array of different-shaped wine glasses stood guard over simple white plates and more Georgian silver.

“Have a seat,” Oliver offered, pulling out her chair for her. “You can take a look at my wine selection for tonight, if you’d like. I decided we needed to continue your education.”

Felicity shrugged off the vampire’s suit blazer, hanging it on the back of the chair before sitting down. She examined the bottles lined up at the head of the table. First, her eyes landed upon a heavy, dark Champagne bottle with a gold shield for a label, and a wire basket over the cork. The next bottle was made from dark green glass, with a simple cream label and black script that dated the wine; it was from 1989, her birth year. There were two more bottles hidden behind: one with a long, octagonal label bearing a picture of a château on it and thick red wax around the top, and the other lopsided and black, bearing no label and sealed with something that looked like tar. Unusual wine choices, but Felicity had no doubt that Oliver was going to guide her through an experience of a lifetime. The vampire snagged the Champagne and plunked it into a silver bucket full of ice before joining her in sitting.

“When did you first come to Oxford?” Felicity questioned. She’d been curious about this ever since Oliver had finally admitted his real age to her.

“1992,” he answered. “I came to Oriel as a biochemistry student, and stayed on for a doctorate. When I won an All Souls Prize Fellowship, I switched over here for a few years. When my degree was completed, the university offered me a place and the members elected me a fellow.”

A Prize Fellow? There were only two of those elected a year. “And… is this your first time at All Souls?”

Oliver laughed, understanding what she was asking by not asking instantly. “I've stayed in Merton, Magdalen, and University colleges once before. I've been a member of New College and Oriel twice each. But this is the first time All Souls has paid any attention to me.”

Multiplying this answer by a factor of Cambridge, Paris, Padua, and Montpelier - all of which, Felicity was certain, had once had a student on their books named Oliver Queen, or some variation thereof - made Felicity dizzy just thinking about the vampire’s lifespan and everything he had lived through.

“Felicity?” Oliver's amused voice penetrated her thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

She sighed. “I'm sorry. I can't keep the curiosity at bay when you start reminiscing. It’s a particularly bad habit of mine.”

“I know. Although I wouldn’t call it a bad habit It's one of the difficulties a vampire faces when he spends time with a witch who's a historian,” he chuckled. “I asked if you were hungry.”

“Surely you can tell that.”

“I can, but I would rather have verbal confirmation than rely on my senses, which might not be exactly accurate.” As he spoke, he removed two plates, each with six fresh oysters nestled on top of a bed of crushed ice. “Have you ever had oysters and Champagne together before?”

“Can’t say I have,” she admitted.

“Then consider this the start of your education when it comes to more difficult pairings of food and wine.” Oliver settled back into his chair after fetching the Champagne bottle. With one quick flick of his wrist, he popped the cork free from the neck of the bottle.

“I usually find that more difficult,” Felicity commented dryly, looking at his strong, elegant fingers and then swallowing when she caught herself.

“I can teach you to shoot it off with a bow and arrow if you’d like,” the vampire grinned. “Or knock it off with a sword. Of course, a knife works, too, if you don't have a sword lying around.” He poured some of the rich liquid into their glasses, where it fizzed and danced in the candlelight. He raised his glass. “ _À la tienne_.”

“À la tienne,” she repeated, her French accent so awful it made her cringe. Felicity lifted her flute and watched the bubbles break on the surface. “Why are the bubbles so small?”

“Because the wine is so old. Most champagne is drunk long before this. But I like the old style of wine. It reminds me of the way classic Champagne used to taste.”

“How old is it?”

“Older than you are," Oliver replied. He was pulling the oyster shells apart with his bare hands, something that usually required a very sharp knife and a lot of skill. Felicity watched him, impressed. Once he’d finished, he slid her plate over to her. “It's from 1961.”

“Please tell me this is the oldest wine we're drinking tonight,” Felicity said, thinking back to the wine he'd brought to dinner yesterday.

“Not by a long shot,” he chuckled.

Felicity tipped the contents of the first shell into her mouth, following it up with a sip of the golden Champagne. The creaminess of the wine and the oysters collided with the taste of sea salt in ways that were utterly delicious.

“What do you taste?” Oliver asked.

“It's as if the whole Atlantic ocean is in my mouth,” she answered honestly, taking another sip of her wine.

Finishing off the oysters, they moved on to an enormous salad. It had every expensive green known to mankind, berries, and an incredible dressing made with champagne vinegar and olive oil that Oliver whisked together at the table. He was clearly a skilled chef. The tiny slices of meat that adorned it were partridge from the Old Lodge's grounds. The vampire poured them glasses of Felicity’s birthday wine, which smelled like wood smoke, but tasted like butterscotch. The next course was a veal stew in a fragrant sauce, with apples, cream, and rice.

Oliver watched Felicity eat with interest, and he smiled when Felicity hummed, tasting the tartness of the apple for the first time. “It's an old recipe from Normandy,” he told her. “Do you like it?”

“It's wonderful. Did you make it?”

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite meals.”

Felicity’s brow furrowed. “You aren't eating, though.” He’d served himself very little and had hardly taken a few bites.

“I'm not all that hungry.” The vampire continued to watch her eat for a few moments, then leaned across the table to pick up the wine bottle sealed with red wax. He sliced through the wax effortlessly with his fingernail, and pulled the cork out of the bottle.

As she watched him pour the wine out into a decanter, Felicity questioned, “Can you already smell it, just after opening the bottle?”

“Oh, yes. This wine in particular.” Oliver poured her a bit and splashed some into his own glass. “Are you ready to taste something that will blow your mind? This is a vintage Château Margaux. Some people would consider it the finest red wine ever made.”

He put his nose to his glass to sniff it, and Felicity copied his movements. The smell of violets washed over her; her first taste was like drinking velvet. Then there was milk chocolate, cherries, and the very last thing she noted was a spicy taste, that for some reason, reminded her of Oliver.

“This tastes like you,” the witch mumbled.

Of course, Oliver heard her. He tilted his head, asking, “How so?”

“It’s sort of spicy.”

“Just spicy?”

“No. At first, I thought maybe it would taste like violet flowers, because that's how it smelled. But then I tasted all kinds of things. What do you taste?”

Tasting the wine again, Oliver states, “Violets - I agree with you there. Purple candied violets, the ones Elizabeth Tudor loved, despite the fact they ruined her teeth. Cigar smoke, wild blackberries, and red currants macerated in brandy.”

Watching a vampire use his sensory powers had to be one of the most surreal experiences anyone could have. Felicity always found it fascinating. It wasn’t just that Oliver could see and hear things she could never hope to; it was that when he did sense something, his perception was acute and remarkably precise. Oliver kept drinking his wine while Felicity continued eating, still in awe of how the vampire used his senses.

“What do you think I would taste like?” she mused.

Almost immediately, Oliver shot to his feet, and shoved himself away from the table, his face white and furious. His eyes were startlingly ferocious as he gazed down at her, enraged. Felicity stared back in shock. She’d said something wrong and now she was seeing the full extent of the vampire’s anger when he unleashed it.

“Don’t _EVER_ ask me that!” he snarled.

“It was just a question,” she stammered.

Oliver was at her side in the time it took her to blink once, yanking her up from her chair forcefully. His fingers dug into her arms painfully, causing her to squirm.

“There's one legend about vampires we haven't discussed, isn't there?” he growled. Felicity tried to get out of his grasp, but his hands only squeezed tighter. Her heart was thudding in her chest, fear taking over when she saw the darkness in his gaze. “The one about the vampire who finds himself so hopelessly fascinated with a woman that he can’t help himself.”

Felicity’s mind sped over what had happened. He'd asked her what she’d tasted when drinking the wine, and she’d said she tasted him. Then he told her what he tasted, and she responded with -

“Oh, Oliver,” she whispered.

“How often have you thought about what it would be like for me to taste you?” Oliver's voice dropped from a purr toward something deeper and more dangerous.

He released her arms, but there was no time to react or draw away. Oliver spun her around and trapped her, his chest to her back and one arm anchoring her hips to his, while his other hand came up to caress her skull. Felicity froze when his fingers trailed through her hair and his thumb pressed against her neck. She couldn’t break free. To her alarm, she strangely felt like she didn’t want to.

The witch’s breath hitched when she felt Oliver’s cold lips press against her neck. “It's not only your scent that makes me crave you. I can hear your witch's blood moving through your veins.” His mouth moved, his nose caressing along her carotid artery. “Did you know that to a vampire, a witch's blood makes music?” he murmured, his voice mesmerizing. “A beautiful melody. It’s like a siren singing to a sailor lost at sea. The call of your blood could be my undoing - and yours.”

The vampire's lips began to move incrementally along Felicity’s jawbone. Each place his mouth touched turned freezing cold, then throbbed with a burning sensation as her blood rushed back to the skin's surface.

“Oliver,” she tried to say, but it came out as more of a whimper. He snarled in response. The witch closed her eyes, expecting to feel his teeth sinking into her neck. But she was still unable to move. Or maybe just unwilling.

He twirled her around yet again, his arms locking around her. Crashing his mouth to hers, Oliver captured her lips in a searing kiss as his fingertips cradled her head. Felicity found her own lips parting under his. Somehow, she managed to free her hands from where they were trapped between his chest and hers - and she wrapped her arm around his neck, sinking into the kiss with pleasure. With her movement, however, the hunter in Oliver’s touch seemed to change. The kiss was no less demanding, but it turned to something bittersweet. The vampire’s hands moved forward smoothly until he was cupping Felicity’s face, and Oliver pulled away reluctantly with a soft, ragged sound.

He dropped his forehead against hers. “ _Merde._ I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I took advantage of your fear. I shouldn't have.”

Felicity felt intoxicated, Oliver’s sea breeze, cacao, and cedarwood scent entrancing her. But she couldn’t see his face properly anymore and she wanted to look into his eyes, so she stirred within the vampire’s grasp, restless.

“Don’t move,” he rumbled, his voice harsh. “I might not be able to control myself if you step away. I told you in the lab that there’s a relationship between predator and prey within a hunt. I need you to try and play dead… so the predator in me loses interest and doesn’t attempt to chase you.” He lifted his forehead from hers. There was no mistaking the sharp look on his face. It was avid, hungry. Oliver was a creature of instinct now.

But Felicity had instincts, too. “You’re not going to hurt me. I'm safe with you,” she murmured.

“Never be sure of that.” He ducked his head again, to brush his nose against her neck. Felicity gulped and he released a low sound. “It would only take a moment. You wouldn't be able to stop me, and I wouldn't be able to stop myself.”

“You won’t hurt me, Oliver.”

“You don’t know that for certain.” He shuddered. “Promise me that you will never joke with a vampire - not even me - about blood or how you might taste. You told me before that you don't know much about vampires. You need to understand is that no vampire is immune to the temptation of blood. Vampires with a conscience spend most of their time trying not to imagine how people would taste. If you were to meet one without a conscience - and there are plenty who fit that category - then god help you.”

“I promise. I’m sorry. I - I didn't think,” Felicity said softly, her mind still whirling with the memory of his kiss, his fury, and his palpable hunger.

Oliver bowed his head, looking so ashamed that it made the witch want to cry. The ampulla from Bethany tumbled out of the neck of his shirt and swung like a pendulum, its tiny coffin glinting in the light from the candles. “Witches and vampires aren't meant to feel this way about each other,” he said, his voice shaking. “I'm experiencing emotions that I've never-” He broke off, shaking his head.

“... I know.” Very carefully, Felicity rested her head over his chest. She heard his heart beat once, powerfully. “I feel them, too. You’re not alone.”

“I don’t know what this is, Felicity. And it scares me.”

“It’s… a form of desire.”

His lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. “That was the fifth question I had to answer for the All Souls Prize Fellowship.”

Felicity knew what he was referring to. Fellowship candidates were invited to sit an exam that involved four questions, combining thought-provoking breadth and depth with complexity. If the candidate survived the first four questions, they were asked the famous ‘fifth question’. It wasn’t really a question at all; it was a single word like ‘darkness’ or ‘fire’. It was up to the candidate to decide how to respond, and only the most brilliant answers by the most genius of people, won places at All Souls.

"Desire?” she repeated quietly. “What did you write?”

Oliver exhaled. His hand on her elbow, he guided her over to the armchairs near the fireplace, urging her to sit down in one of them while he went to fetch two fresh wine glasses, and the ancient black bottle.

“As far as I can tell, there are only two emotions that keep the world spinning, year after year. One is fear. The other is desire.” He passed over her wine glass, eyes gleaming. “That's what I wrote about.”

Love hadn't factored into his response, Felicity noticed. It was a brutal picture, a tug-of-war between two equal but opposing impulses. It had the ring of truth, however. The vampire kept hinting that his desire for blood was so strong that it put everything else at risk. But vampires weren't the only creatures who had to manage such strong impulses. Much of what could be counted as magic was simply desire in action. Witchcraft was different, as that required spells and rituals. But magic was a wish - a need. Something that could turn into deeds when they crossed a witch's mind.

“Magic is desire made real,” Felicity told him, deciding to be forthcoming. “That’s what Sara always says. It's how I pulled down _Notes and Queries_ the night we met. When a witch concentrates on something they want, and then imagines how they might get it, they can make it happen. That's why I have to be so careful about my work.”

“Then you spend most of your time trying not to want things, just like me. For some of the same reasons, too, I guess.”

“If you mean the fear that if I started, there would be no stopping, then yes. I don't want to look back on a life where I took everything rather than earned it.”

“So you earn everything twice over. First you earn it by not simply taking it, and then you earn it again through work and effort.” He laughed bitterly. “The advantages of being an otherworldly creature don't amount to much, do they?”

Oliver pulled the cork of the ancient wine and poured the amber liquid into her glass, which she held out for him. The wine seemed at once old and vibrant. It smelled of flowers, candied lemons and of some other, long-past world that Felicity had only been able to read about and imagine, until now. When she took a sip, she felt as if something ancient and powerful was entering her bloodstream.

“Are you going to tell me what it is?” she asked, around the flavors in her mouth.

“Malmsey,” he replied, taking a seat in the armchair opposite her. “Very old malmsey.”

“How old?” Felicity said suspiciously. “As old as you are?”

The vampire laughed. "No. You don't want to drink anything as old as I am. It's from 1795, from grapes grown on Madeira. It was quite popular once, but nobody pays much attention to it now.”

They finished at least half of the bottle while discussing Oliver’s time at All Souls, about John Diggle - the other Prize Fellow, it turned out - and their adventures in Oxford. Hearing about the Dynamic Duo, comprised of a vampire and a daemon, was entertaining, and Felicity silently wished she had a friend who was as close to her as Diggle was to Oliver.

“You look tired,” Oliver eventually commented.

“I am. Thank you for dinner. I really enjoyed it.” Despite her fatigue, there was something she needed to tell him before he took her home. Felicity placed my glass down and turned to face him directly. “I've made my decision, Oliver. On Monday, I think I’m going to try and recall Ashmole 782.”

Oliver blinked at her, astonished.

“I don't know how I broke the spell the first time, but I'll try to do it again. Merlyn doesn't have much faith that I'll succeed, but what does he know? He hasn't been able to break the spell once. That gives me one up on him. And if I get it, then you might be able to help me read and interpret it. We get can the answers to all your questions about creature origins.”

“Wait, what do you mean, you don't know what you did to break the spell?” Oliver questioned, his forehead creasing in confusion. “What words did you use? What powers did you call upon?”

“Oliver… I broke the spell without realizing it.”

“Fuck, Felicity.” He shot to his feet in alarm. It was the first time she’d heard him swear in English. “Does Merlyn know that you didn't use witchcraft?”

“If he knows, I didn't tell him. What does it matter?”

“It matters because if you didn't break the enchantment, then you met its conditions,” Oliver explained, agitated. “Right now, the creatures in the Bodleian are waiting to observe whatever counterspell you used, copy it if they can, and get Ashmole 782 themselves. When the other witches discover that the spell opened for you of its own accord, they will not be happy.”

Felicity shook her head. “The spell was constructed more than a century before I was born, there’s no way I could meet any sort of conditions it has laid out. That's impossible.”

“Just because something seems impossible doesn't make it untrue,” Oliver said grimly. "We have no idea what Merlyn will do when he understands your relationship to the manuscript.”

“I'm in danger whether I recall Ashmole 782 or not,” she pointed out. “Merlyn really isn't going to let this go, is he?”

“No. And he won't hesitate to use magic against you, even if every human in the Bodleian sees him do it. I might not be able to reach you in time.”

“Then we sit together as we wait for the manuscript to be delivered.”

“I seriously don't like this,” Oliver said worriedly. “There's a very fine line between bravery and recklessness, Felicity.”

“I want my life back,” she sighed.

“What if this is your life, from now on?” he asked. “What if you can't keep the magic away after all?”

“I'll keep parts of it.” Remembering his kiss, and the sudden, intense feeling of vitality that had accompanied it, Felicity looked straight into Oliver’s eyes so he would know he was included and she would be keeping him, if he stuck around. “But I'm not going to let Merlyn frighten me away.”

Oliver continued to worry over her plan as he walked her home. He lent her one of his Henley’s to stay warm, that almost made her trip over with dizziness from how strong his scent was on it. He entwined their fingers a couple of minutes into the journey, and their hands remained joined for the remainder of it. There was an unspoken agreement between them that their relationship was more than just platonic now. It wouldn’t be addressed out loud for a while, Felicity knew that, but she was happy to let it remain the way it was currently.

When the witch turned in to New College Lane to use the back entrance, Oliver tugged at her arm in protest. “Not on your life,” he shook his head. “Did you see the look that porter gave me? You might be able to call down from your rooms to let him know you’re back, but I want him to know I delivered you here safely.”

Felicity snickered that Oliver was wary of Rene, given that he was a vampire and Rene was only a human, but she entertained his wishes. The two of them navigated the uneven sidewalks of Holywell Street and through the New College gates. Rene stood and watched as they strolled past him, but the porter looked relieved, so it was worth it.

“Will you be going out tomorrow?” Oliver asked, at the bottom of her staircase.

The witch rolled her eyes. “No, I've got about a thousand letters of recommendation to write. I'm going to stay in my rooms and clear my desk. And I promise I will actually be staying home. You can send Roy or Dinah to watch me if you want, but I won’t be going out at all.”

“All right. Well, I'm going to Woodstock to go hunting,” he told her, his voice casual.

“Happy hunting, then,” Felicity replied, keeping her tone equally casual.

Oliver blinked, taken back. “It doesn't bother you to know I'll be out culling deer tomorrow?” 

“No. It’s your food source, what you need to survive. Should I be bothered?”

“You should be if you realize _why_ I need to be hunting in the first place.”

“I’m sorry I smell so appealing to you,” she said dryly, hoping her flat tone might counteract his seriousness. “Considering you don’t like vegetables, next time we go for dinner I’ll wear a necklace made of onions, carrots, and peppers. That’s bound to make me smell horrible to you. Or will I just look like some sort of raw kebab? Yeah, now I’m thinking about it, the vegetable necklace is a bad idea. No vegetable necklace.”

The vampire’s eyes glittered in amusement. He stretched his fingers slightly but didn't let go of Felicity’s hand, instead raising it to his lips and placing a slow kiss on the tender flesh of the underside of her wrist.

“Goodnight,” he said, releasing her hand. His eyes left trails of ice and snow behind as they lingered over the witch’s face and shoulders.

“Goodnight,” Felicity responded softly, silently astonished that a kiss on the palm could be so intimate. She secretly wished he’d kissed her on the lips, and debated leaning up onto her tiptoes and kissing him herself, but she didn’t have the courage to. “I'll see you on Monday?”

“I’ll be here at eight so we can walk to the Bodleian together,” he told her.

“I’ll most likely be rowing, actually,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll be watching you on the river. Maybe we can go for breakfast afterward.” She started pulling off his Henley, but his hand landed on her shoulder. “Keep it. The color suits you.”

Felicity climbed the narrow steps to her rooms, heart still aflutter. As she fiddled with the keys to her front door, she absentmindedly noticed that the metal hardware of the lock and the wood were covered in fresh scratches, but didn’t focus in on them enough to be concerned. Once the witch was inside, she switched on the lights and headed over to the window, peering out and raising her hand to show Oliver that she was safely inside.

She slept in the vampire’s sweater that night.

She told herself that it was because it was a warm and convenient piece of clothing to stop the bitter autumn chill from penetrating her skin.

But as Felicity drifted off into a slumber with the soothing scents of cedar wood, sea salt and cacao enveloping her senses, she knew the only person she was lying to was herself.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for waiting so patiently for this chapter! i really appreciate all your support and comments. i've written up to chapter 24 at this point and honestly it's getting SO INTENSE guys, you have no idea.
> 
> hope you enjoy!!

On Monday morning, the whole world felt crisp and bright, and time seemed suspended. The air had that magically still quality that was common in British autumns. After a remarkably restful night’s sleep, Felicity jumped out of bed at dawn and pulled on her waiting rowing gear, eager to get outdoors.

It was extremely early, so the river was empty for the first hour. As the sun broke over the horizon, the fog burned off slightly so that Felicity felt like she was slipping through alternate bands of mist and warm sunshine. The waterways became busier as the morning went on, so much so that by seven am, Felicity thought it was a little too crowded for her liking, and decided to finish up for the day. 

When she pulled her scull up to the dock, Oliver was sitting on the curving steps that led up to the boat house’s balcony, dressed casually in jeans and a dark sweater, looking every bit like an out of place Tommy Hilfiger model.

“Good morning,” he said, rising from his perch and trotting down the steps towards her with his hands in his pockets.

Felicity climbed out of the boat. “Good morning. You haven’t been sitting there long, have you?”

“Only the last ten minutes,” the vampire shrugged, following her as she carried her oars into the boathouse.

“Were you following me along the river before that?”

“Trying to,” he admitted. “You’re a fast rower. I struggled to keep up when I had to cross the bridges.” He frowned. “Do you mind me keeping an eye on you?”

“No,” she answered honestly. The witch’s knees dipped slightly as she lifted her scull out of the water, swinging it up and over until its weight rested on her shoulder.

“Why don't you let me help you with that?” Oliver offered.

“No chance. I’m strong enough to carry my own boat.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply that you aren’t.”

“I know. If you want to help, you can grab my bag. I’ll just be a couple of minutes and then we can go.”

When the boat was safely back in its rack, the pair of them clambered into the Jaguar that was parked nearby, driving towards McKenna’s cafe at Oliver’s insistence. Felicity knew that he wanted her to eat because he was going to have to sit next to her for most of the day and resist the call of her blood. But she didn’t argue; she was hungry after the morning's exertions. He steered her by the elbow around the other diners, his hand firmer on the small of her back than before.

McKenna greeted Felicity like an old friend and within five minutes of them sitting down, she came out with a plate laden with eggs, mushrooms, hash browns, and tomatoes, announcing, ‘the usual’. She even brought an extra rack of toast out, and Oliver actually ate a couple of slices smothered with fresh jam after she pointed out that she wasn’t going to be able to finish them all.

After breakfast, they headed back to New College. Rene peered around his window to see if it was indeed Oliver’s car pulling up outside the gates. The porters were probably already placing bets on competing predictions regarding their odd relationship. Oliver dropped her off and went to park his car at All Souls so he could join her in walking over to the Bodleian.

Felicity showered to loosen up her tight muscles and, in no rush, dressed in black skinny jeans, a bright floral top, and black cardigan. She drew her hair into a low ponytail, and the short piece in the front fell forward as it always did. She could try and pin it back up, but Felicity liked the way Oliver kept on tucking it behind her ear, so left it.

The vampire was pacing back and forth nervously near the porter’s lodge when Felicity walked down. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“I think so,” she answered, nodding.

He took her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

She shot him a warm smile. “Thank you.”

In spite of her efforts to stay calm, Felicity’s anxiety rose as she pushed open the library's glass doors once they arrived. The guard's eyes narrowed at her and Oliver’s uncharacteristically warm smiles, and he took an inordinate amount of time checking their faces against the picture on their readers’ cards. Finally, the guard admitted them, and they slowly made their way up the stairs to Duke Humphrey’s.

“Is he here?” Felicity whispered, reluctant to say Merlyn's name aloud.

Oliver raised his head to scent the air, and then nodded solemnly. “He’s in the Selden End.”

“Well, he can wait down there all day as far as I'm concerned,” Felicity muttered under her breath, picking up a blank request slip from the shallow rectangular tray on the desk. On it, she quickly wrote ‘Ashmole MS 782’, her name, and her reader number. Oliver staked out a table for them both while she approached the collection desk. Curtis looked up as she walked over.

“I've got three books on reserve,” Felicity told him with a smile.

Curtis nodded and went into the cage, returning with her manuscripts, then held out his hand for the new request. He put the slip into the worn, gray cardboard envelope that would be sent to the stacks.

“You and Professor Queen seem closer,” he mumbled.

“Um, yeah,” she blushed. “It’s a relatively new development.”

Curtis grinned. “How many dates have you gone on?”

Felicity spluttered at his forward question and didn’t respond, just shooting him a half-hearted glare.

Oliver glanced up from his reading when she sat back down at their table. “You didn’t answer Curtis’ question,” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” she murmured fondly.

She turned on her laptop and tried to concentrate on her work. It could take hours for the manuscript to appear so there was no point in working herself into a state now. But thinking about alchemy was harder than ever when she was waiting for Ashmole 782 to emerge, especially when she knew that she might be connected to the book somehow. Every time new books emerged from the stacks, she looked up desperately. Sensing her agitation, Oliver reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, without even looking up from his book. The touch of his cool skin helped calm her. Exhaling, Felicity twisted her wrist so his fingertips were resting in the palm, and focused on typing with her other spare hand instead.

Soft steps approached from the Selden End after they’d waited an hour. Oliver tensed in his chair, hand slipping away from hers. Felicity turned to see what he was getting worried about

Malcolm Merlyn had strolled up and stopped behind her. “Dr Smoak,” he said coldly.

“Mr Merlyn.” Her own voice was just was chilly. Barely sparing him a passing glance, Felicity returned her attention back to the open volume in front of her.

Merlyn must have taken a step in her direction, because Oliver announced in a brutally polite and quiet voice, “I'd stop there unless Dr Smoak wishes to speak with you.”

“I'm very busy,” Felicity commented. A sense of pressure wound around her forehead, and a voice started whispering ominously in her skull. Gritting her teeth, she forced Merlyn out of her head. She devoted every ounce of her energy to keeping the witch out of her thoughts. “I said, I'm busy,” she repeated stonily.

Oliver placed his pen down, gaze fierce as pushed away from the desk, standing.

“It’s all right, Professor Queen,” Felicity said calmly. “Mr Merlyn appreciates that I don’t have time to talk to him right now and he’s going to leave us alone. Aren’t you?”

“I hope you understand what you're doing,” Merlyn spat.

Oliver growled. She laid her hand lightly on his arm to try and get him to settle down. Her fingers then slid down so she could grasp his hand tightly, grounding him. As she shifted her hand, she noticed Merlyn’s eyes fixing onto the spot where the witch and vampire touched. 

Until that moment, Merlyn had only suspected that Oliver and Felicity were too close for the comfort of witches. Now, he was certain.

_You've told him what you know about our book_ , Merlyn said viciously, his voice clapping like thunder through her head. _You’re developing a relationship with a vampire._

Felicity tried to push against his intrusion, but the male witch was too strong. He lashed out when she attempted to shove him out, causing her to gasp in surprise and pain. Curtis looked up from the collection desk in alarm. Oliver's arm was vibrating under her hand, his snarl subsiding into a deeper, more menacing rumble.

“Before nightfall, every witch in Oxford will know you're a traitor,” Merlyn said lowly.

Oliver’s muscles coiled, and he reached up to the ampulla he wore around his neck, clenching it within white fingers. The feral look in his eyes and the way he leaned forward threateningly made Felicity concerned for a moment that he might actually be about to kill a witch in the Bodleian. Very cautiously, she stood and placed herself squarely between the two of them. Oliver immediately growled, wordlessly ordering her to move out the way, but she wasn’t going to let him attack Merlyn - not when the entire witch population of England would hunt him down for revenge.

“That’s enough,” she stated, glaring at Merlyn. “If you don't leave, I'm going to tell Curtis you're harassing me and have him call security on you.”

After a tense minute or so, Merlyn curled his lip and walked away.

The vampire jolted his arm to remove Felicity’s hand from his and hastily began to pack up his belongings. “We're leaving.”

“No, we're not. We are not leaving until we get that manuscript.”

“Were you even listening?” Oliver hissed. “He threatened you! I don't need this manuscript, but I do need - ” He stopped abruptly, looking conflicted.

Sighing, Felicity pushed him back down into his seat. Curtis was still staring in their direction, his hand hovering above the phone to call for help. Plastering on a fake, reassuring smile, Felicity shook her head at him before returning her attention to the vampire, who was still struggling to calm down, rage evident in his stiff frame.

“It's my fault. I shouldn't have touched you while he was standing there,” she said, looking down at his shoulder, where her hand was resting.

Oliver’s fingers curled around her own. “Do you regret touching me or the fact that Merlyn saw you do it?”

“Neither,” she whispered. His blue eyes went from sad and angry to surprised in an instant. “But you don't want me to put myself in danger.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t consider showing affection particularly reckless, but it’s apparently dangerous if I’m showing affection towards a vampire.”

“Witches and vampires shouldn’t be friends, and Merlyn doesn’t like the fact that we’re challenging the social norm,” Oliver frowned. “His threat about telling every witch in Oxford about our partnership is not an empty one. All the covens in southern England will be wanting to ostracize you from witch society by tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” she said, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze. “You’re more important.” He blinked at her in shock. “You and the manuscript, and how it could potentially help your research about creatures dying out, are more important,” Felicity quickly added. Although that didn’t mean her first statement was wrong.

The vampire managed a smile, his lips ticking up. “Thank you for saying that.”

Merlyn started to approach again, and Oliver’s grip on Felicity’s hand tightened. But Merlyn sat at a desk across the other side of the room, obviously wanting to keep an eye on them, but not wanting to get too close. That didn’t stop him from glowering at the vampire.

“One more word from him and we're leaving,” Oliver murmured. “Manuscript or no manuscript. I mean it, Felicity.”

Thinking about alchemical illustrations proved impossible after that. Alena’s warning about what happened to witches who kept secrets from other witches, and Merlyn's firm pronouncement that she was a traitor, resounded through Felicity’s head, haunting her. When Oliver tried to get her to stop for lunch, she refused. The manuscript had still not appeared, and they couldn't be at Blackwell’s when it arrived - not when Merlyn was so close.

An hour later, Felicity couldn’t control her impatience anymore. “The manuscript should have arrived by now.”

“We just need to wait a little longer,” Oliver said, flicking through one of her books.

“We’ve waited long enough,” she huffed.

Oliver’s eyes followed her loyally across the fifteen feet of open space to the collection desk. His gaze felt hard and crisp like ice, rather than soft as snowfall, and clung to her shoulder blades as if the vampire was terrified she was going to be assaulted any second, and he wouldn’t be able to protect her.

“Hi, Curtis. Look, can you check to see if the manuscript I requested this morning has been delivered please?"

“Sorry, I think someone else must have it,” he shrugged. “Nothing's come up for you.”

Felicity was absolutely certain that nobody else had it. “Are you sure?”

Curtis riffled through the slips and found her request. Paper-clipped to it was a note. “It's missing.”

“It can’t be missing. I saw it two weeks ago.”

“Ashmole 782? You can’t have.” He checked the Libraries’ directories on the computer. “It says here that its been missing since 1859. We don't have a microfilm.”

“But I had it two weeks ago!” she insisted.

He shot her a strange look. “You know, people have been asking for that book all week. What’s with the sudden interest in a manuscript that went missing over a hundred years ago?”

“Dr Smoak, could I show you something when you have a moment?” Oliver’s smooth voice made her jump.

“Yes, of course.” She turned blindly toward him. “Thank you, Curtis.”

“We're leaving. Now,” Oliver whispered.

In the aisle, an assortment of creatures was focused intently on them. Felicity felt itchy and cold with all of their eyes staring at her.

“The book can't be missing. I just saw it,” she told Oliver quietly. “We should have them check again.”

“Don't talk about it now. Don't even think about it.” The vampire gathered up her things with lightning speed, his hands a blur as he saved her work and shut down the laptop.

Felicity obediently started reciting coding sequences in her head to rid her mind of thoughts of Ashmole 782. As she did so, she saw Merlyn hurry past, busily texting on his phone. He was followed by a couple of grim looking vampires and a daemon who looked like he was having a panic attack.

“Where are they all going?” she said.

“You didn't recall Ashmole 782,” Oliver replied shortly, also texting on his phone. “They're regrouping.”

Her stomach twisted. “Are they going to come back with reinforcements?”

“Potentially, which is why we’re getting out of here.” He released a short snarl of frustration. “ _Merde._ Roy and Dinah aren’t responding. We’re on our own.”

He thrust her bag and laptop at her, and picked up the three manuscripts she’d been reading. With his free hand, he snared Felicity’s elbow and moved them toward the collection desk. 

“Professor Queen?” Curtis asked warily.

“Curtis, Dr Smoak is coming back to college with me to help solve a problem I've found in the Needham papers. She won't require these for the rest of the day. And I won't be returning either.”

He handed over the boxed manuscripts. Curtis gave the vampire a weirded out look before thumping them into a neater pile and heading for the locked manuscript hold. Felicity and Oliver didn't speak at all on the way down the stairs, and by the time they pushed through the glass doors into the courtyard, Felicity was ready to explode with questions. But before she could open her mouth to ask, she saw Merlyn leaning against the iron railings, waiting for them. Oliver had her shielded behind him before she could even blink.

“So, Dr Smoak, you didn't get it back,” Merlyn said maliciously. “I told you it was a fluke. Not even a Smoak could break that spell without proper training in witchcraft. Your mother might have managed it, but you don't appear to share her talents.”

“Ashmole 782 is missing. My mother was gifted, but she wasn't a bloodhound,” Felicity bristled. Oliver rose his hand slightly to quiet her. He was trying not to interfere between witches, but Felicity knew the vampire wouldn't be able to resist throttling Merlyn indefinitely.

“It's been missing. You found it anyway. It's a good thing you didn't manage to break the spell a second time, though.”

“And why is that?”

Merlyn’s eyes flickered over to Oliver, filled with hatred. “Because we can’t let our history fall into the hands of _animals_ like him. Witches and vampires don't mix, Dr Smoak. There are excellent reasons for it. Remember who you are. If you don't, you will regret it.”

Felicity swallowed, fighting down the panic that was bubbling to the surface.

“Talk to her again, and I'll rip your throat out,” Oliver said flatly.

And he was serious.

“Oliver,” she said quietly. “Not here. There are humans about and they could overhear.”

“Attacking witches now, Queen?” Merlyn sneered. “Have you run out of vampires and humans to kill?”

“Leave her alone.” Oliver's voice remained even, but his body was poised to strike if Merlyn moved a muscle in Felicity’s direction.

The male witch's face twisted horribly. “There's no chance of that. She belongs to us, not you. So does the manuscript.”

“Felicity belongs to nobody, and if Ashmole 782 is what I think it is, I have as much a right to claim it as you do.”

“Oliver,” Felicity repeated, more urgently. Humans all around them were glancing over, frowning. “The humans are staring.”

He growled under his breath and reached back, grabbing Felicity’s hand in his. The shock of cold skin against warm and the sensation that she was tethered to him were simultaneous. He pulled her forward gently, tucking her under his shoulder protectively. Felicity allowed him to manhandle her only because she knew that resisting him wouldn’t end well, not when he was running on instinct.

Merlyn laughed scornfully. “It’s going to take more than that to keep her safe, Queen.”

“You’re not touching her!” Oliver snarled.

“She'll get the manuscript back for us. We'll make sure of it. And if we have to get rid of you to get our hands on her, then we’ll do what we have to do.”

Rage flared deep within Felicity’s chest, red hot and burning. Stepping in front of Oliver, she ignored his small noise of shock and protest and exclaimed furiously, “Did you just threaten him?”

A tense pressure began to build in the air, the atmosphere changing instantly. Felicity kept her eyes fixed on Merlyn’s as thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. She wanted nothing more than to shove him down and beat on him until he left her and Oliver alone.

“Vampires have no place interfering with the affairs of witches,” Merlyn spat at her. “He is the _scum_ of this earth. Vampires are mere pests to other creatures.”

Before Felicity even know what was happening, something condensed and coiled that was buried within her was surging outwards. Merlyn’s scowling expression transformed into one of terror and surprise before he was propelled backward like he’d been kicked viciously in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Felicity stared in horror, glancing around. To her bewilderment, none of the humans appeared to have noticed what had happened.

“We need to go,” Oliver told her urgently.

She just shook her head, aghast.

“Felicity, we need to go! Now!” Oliver grabbed her by the shoulders and hastily propelled Felicity through the quadrangle and onto the wide cobblestone path surrounding the Radcliffe Camera.

They left Merlyn collapsed on the ground outside the Bodleian, and didn’t glance back.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... its thursday. near midnight in the uk. i forgot what day it was yesterday. i forgot i had to update. yikes. sorry.
> 
> thank you all for your continued support
> 
> this chapter is... intense. enjoy!

As they ran through Oxford away from the Bodleian, Felicity could sense Oliver’s frantic energy. They’d escaped after leaving Merlyn sprawled out on the ground as a result of being struck by Felicity’s magic, but they didn’t know if they were being followed, or chased. The vampire eyed All Souls' closed back iron gates, swore quickly and enthusiastically in French, and continued to guide Felicity towards the High Street, to an alternate entrance. It was good that he was moving her, because the witch was frozen, partially in shock from what had just gone down, and what she’d just done.

“Not much further,” he muttered, his hand gripping Felicity’s a bit more tightly.

It was only once they were safely in his locked rooms in All Souls that the vampire relaxed, although he was clearly still on edge. Felicity sunk down onto the couch near the fireplace, hands trembling. Oliver disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. He handed it to her, observing her as she sipped at it, trying to calm herself down.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“What was that?” she whispered, instead of answering. “What did I do to him?”

“That appeared to be some kind of elemental air spell,” Oliver answered. His voice was steady and calm, in contrast to his eyes, which were stormy. “Paired with a disguising one. You wanted to push Merlyn back but you also didn’t want any of the humans to see you doing it.”

“That can’t have been me,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know any spells.”

“No, but your magic is instinctive.”

“I attacked him with magic,” Felicity realized, her fear mounting. “Oh god.”

Oliver shook his head. “As bad as it may seem, you were perfectly within your rights to do so. It was a witch vs witch conflict, you did it in self-defense and in the name of your own honor - and mine, which wasn’t necessary but I appreciate, thank you - and lastly, no humans were aware of the events. You didn’t kill him, Felicity. You just knocked him out. He’s lucky he came away from that with his life. Don’t feel guilty about protecting yourself.”

Swallowing, she nodded. She turned the subject to another one that was bothering her. “Why couldn't I get the manuscript a second time?”

The vampire crossed over to the window, clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. His thumb and finger of his dominant hand were rubbing together anxiously. “I don’t know. We don't understand your connection to the concealment spell on the book. You've been in grave danger ever since you saw Ashmole 782.” He turned back to her, his expression steely. “I’m taking you to stay at the Old Lodge for a few days. I want you away from Merlyn. No more chance meetings in college, no passing by him in the Bodleian. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“But Merlyn was right. I can't get the manuscript back. He shouldn't pay any more attention to me.”

"That's wishful thinking, Felicity.” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “Merlyn wants to understand the secrets of Ashmole 782 as much as we do. It doesn’t matter that you can’t get it out again - you’re still the only one who’s seen it in over a hundred and fifty years."

Felicity narrowed her eyes. “There’s one thing I haven’t asked you before. How can you both be so certain there are secrets in the hidden text? It's an alchemy book. Maybe that's all it is.”

“Alchemy is the story of creation, told chemically. Creatures are chemistry, mapped onto biology.”

“But when Ashmole 782 was written, they didn't know about biology or share your sense of chemistry.”

Oliver, strangely, appeared insulted. “I'm shocked at your narrow-mindedness.” He meant it, too. “The creatures who made the manuscript might not have known about DNA, but what proof do you have that they weren't asking the same questions about creation as a modern scientist?”

Felicity allowed her fear, anger, and frustration from the last few days to overtake her for a moment. Her voice was fierce as she replied, “Alchemical texts are allegories, not instruction manuals. They might hint at larger truths, but you can't build a reliable experiment from them, Oliver.”

“I never said you could,” the vampire responded, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “But we're talking about potential readers who are witches, daemons, and vampires. A little supernatural reading, a bit of otherworldly creativity, and some long memories to fill in the blanks, may give creatures information we don't want them to have.”

“Information you don't want them to have!” Felicity rose to her feet, stalking towards him. “You're just as bad as Merlyn. You want Ashmole 782 to satisfy your own curiosity. You don’t care about me; all you want is the book!” She started grabbing at her belongings to leave, her hands itching.

This did not make Oliver very happy. He rushed towards her, grabbing the back of her arm. “Calm down,” he snarled, eyes wild.

“No,” she stumbled away from him. “Stop telling me what to do!”

Her fingers shot out little arcs of blue fire that sputtered at the edges like bonfire night sparklers. Felicity immediately dropped her laptop and bag, holding her hands up in the air in fear of accidentally setting something alight, or causing an explosion. She quickly looked over at Oliver. He should have looked terrified, but instead, he looked intrigued.

“Does this happen often?” he asked, amazed.

The sparks intensified, some of them dropping down to the floor and scorching the rug. “Oh, shit.” Felicity ran for the kitchen, trailing mini lightning bolts.

Oliver snagged her arm, dragging her back. “No, not water,” he said sharply. “They smell electrical. You’ll just make it worse.”

Felicity nodded weakly and stood stock still, holding her hands up in between them. Taking slow and deliberate breaths, she attempted to bring her racing pulse back down to an acceptable level. They watched tensely for a few minutes while the blue electricity faded from her fingertips and the sparks went out entirely, leaving behind an incredibly bad smell of burnt electrical wiring. When the mini fireworks finally seemed to stop, Oliver took a couple of measured steps backward, so he was leaning against the fireplace mantel.

“Is it over?” he asked.

“I think so." She stared down at her hands warily. "I don't know."

"Well, it was fascinating,” he mused, staring at her like a panther ready to pounce on his prey. “Does that always happen when you get angry?”

“I don't do angry,” Felicity muttered, turning away from him.

His hand shot out and whirled her back around to face him. “Hey, you're not getting off that easy.” The sharp edge to Oliver's voice was back, despite the quietness. “You do angry. I just saw it. And you left at least one hole in my rug to prove it. Not to mention that it was anger that set off that elemental spell of yours against Merlyn in the square.”

“Oliver, let me go.” She frowned, attempted to yank her wrists from where he’d trapped them by her sides with his hands.

He shook his head. "I warned you. Friendships with vampires are complicated. I couldn't let you go right now. Even if I wanted to."

Meeting his gaze directly, she added, “Please,” with a pleading lilt.

Exhaling, he reluctantly released her hands. Immediately, Felicity wheeled around to grab her belongings. She didn’t want to talk to him right now and she wanted to leave. But that was when she learned that she really shouldn't have turned her back on a vampire when they’d been arguing. Oliver’s arms wrapped around her from behind, pressing her back against his chest so hard that Felicity could feel his flexed muscle.

“Now,” he said calmly, directly into her ear. “We're going to talk like civilized creatures about what happened. You are not running away from this, or from me.”

“Let me go, Oliver!”

“No.”

Felicity began struggling again. She didn’t like how confined he was making her feel. She felt claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in around her. As she strained against his arms, they seemed to only get tighter.

“Felicity, stop fighting me. You'll get tired long before I do, I assure you.”

Believing this to be a last resort in trying to escape, Felicity lifted her foot to stomp down on his. But the vampire moved out of the way, and it smashed into the floor instead. Felicity winced at the shock that traveled up her leg and into her knee, which then throbbed with pain. Her breathing began to speed up, adrenalin surging, but this wasn’t a panic attack, and Oliver could probably sense that, so he still didn’t release her.

“Look, we can do this all afternoon if you want, but I honestly wouldn't recommend it. My reflexes are much faster than yours. You’re just going to exhaust yourself.”

“Let me go and we can talk,” Felicity replied through clenched teeth.

Oliver laughed softly, his cold breath tickling the exposed skin at the base of her neck. “That wasn't a very good negotiation attempt, Felicity. I know that as soon as I let you go, you’re going to try and storm out of here. No, we're going to talk like this. You’ve never used an elemental spell before and that’s why you were shocked by it - but you weren’t surprised by this. It’s happened before. I want to know how often your fingers have turned blue.”

“Not often.” She forced herself to relax, imagining that she might be able to slip out of Oliver’s arms - but his grip adjusted around her. Dammit. “A few times, when I was a kid, I set fire to things. Mostly the kitchen cabinets, but that may have been because I tried to put my hands out in the sink and the fire got worse. My bedroom curtains, once or twice. A tree outside the house - but it was just a small tree. Sara and Nyssa used to think it was funny until I almost set an entire crop field alight.”

“And since then?”

“It happened last week, when Dinah made me angry,” she confessed.

“How did she do that?” he asked, resting his cheek against the side of her head. It was comforting, if Felicity overlooked the fact that he was holding her against her wishes.

“She told me I needed to learn how to take care of myself and stop relying on you to protect me. She basically accused me of playing the damsel in distress.”

“You are many things, Felicity, but a damsel in distress is definitely not one of them. So you've had this magical reaction twice in less than a week,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

“I don't think so.”

“No, I don't imagine you do, considering that you keep accidentally setting things on fire, but it is interesting just the same. Now let's turn to another topic we need to address.” His voice softened with a sympathetic note as he questioned, “What were you saying about me only being interested in the manuscript?”

Felicity flushed red with embarrassment, and blushed even more when she heard Oliver inhale to take in her scent. “Sara and Nyssa said you were only spending time with me because you wanted something. I assumed it was Ashmole 782.”

He sighed exasperatedly, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. “But that's not true, is it? I’m not just interested in the manuscript. If I was just interested in Ashmole 782, do you really think I would be here with you right now?” Her blood started to sing in response. Even she could hear it. He chuckled, sounding satisfied. “Yeah, I didn't think you believed that. I just wanted to be sure. You know I care about you far more than some old book.”

Felicity finally relaxed, her body slumping against his. “Oliver…”

“I'm letting you go,” he said, cutting her off. “But don't bolt for the door, understand? If you run, you know I’m going to chase after you. And I will catch you. I’ll be able to grab you before you even make it to the stairs.” When she nodded, he slipped his arms from her, leaving Felicity feeling oddly unsteady. “What am I going to do with you?” he smiled, caressing her cheek with his thumb tenderly.

“No one has ever known what to do with me,” Felicity mumbled.

“That I believe.”

“I’m sorry I said that you’re as bad as Merlyn. That was wrong. You’re nothing like him, Oliver.”

“And I’m sorry I made you angry enough to start sparking,” he replied. “And I’m sorry I grabbed you and wouldn’t let go. I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

The witch ducked her head. “I’m okay now.”

He surveyed her carefully for a moment. “We're going to the Old Lodge.”

“No! I'm perfectly safe in college.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, with an angry glint in his eyes. “Somebody's tried to break into your rooms.”

Felicity gaped, aghast. “What?”

“The loose lock, remember?”

She remembered the fresh scratches on the hardware and decided Oliver didn’t need to know about them. He’d warned her she would find his protectiveness and possessiveness annoying, and she had to admit she was irritated at how smothered she felt.

“You'll stay at Woodstock until Merlyn leaves Oxford,” he told her.

Felicity’s facial expression must have given away her dismay at having to leave one of her favorite cities and her research work behind, for her own protection, because Oliver held his arms out for a hug. The witch snuggled into his embrace, burying her face into his sweater and letting sea breeze, cedarwood, and cacao soothe her senses.

“It won't be so bad, I promise,” Oliver said gently, rubbing her back. “You'll have all the yoga you want. And I’ll stay and entertain you with stories about my past lives.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound _that_ bad,” she mumbled. With the vampire in bodyguard mode, she didn't have much choice except to listen to him. And if he was right - which she suspected he was - somebody, most likely a creature, had already snuck past college security and broken into her rooms. Her college wasn’t as safe as she wanted to believe.

“Come on,” he said, pulling away to pick up her laptop bag. “I’ll drive you back to New College and wait while you pack some things. But this conversation about the connection between Ashmole 782 and your magic is not over,” he continued, lifting her chin with his finger and forcing Felicity to meet his eyes. “It's just beginning.”

“I know,” she whispered. But with Oliver by her side, Felicity didn’t think the future appeared too daunting.

They traveled down to the All Souls fellows' car park hand in hand, and Oliver retrieved the Jaguar from between a modest grey Mercedes and an old red BMW. Given Oxford’s restrictive traffic patterns and bustling streets, it took twice as long to drive to New College as it would have to walk. Oliver pulled up to the front gates and switched the hazard lights on, stepping out only to wave to Rene, who leaned out of the porter’s lodge to check on who was parking up.

“Do you want me to come up with you?” the vampire asked.

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine. It looks like you have Rene’s approval to wait here for now. I'll be right back,” Felicity promised, slinging her laptop bag over her shoulder as he let her out of the car.

“Be quick,” he requested.

Felicity’s head was pounding with stress and anxiety as she headed up to her rooms. Once she was inside, she kicked off her shoes and rubbed at her temples, collecting her suitcase from the corner so she could start packing. As she did so, she noticed a large brown envelope on the floor near the door that she’d stepped over without seeing, with her name written on it. There was no stamp or address, indicating it came from someone within the university. Maybe a letter from Walter Steele, or an invoice from security about fixing her lock. Felicity slid her finger under the flap and pulled out the contents.

A piece of ordinary paper was clipped to something smooth and shiny underneath. Written on the paper in thin black scrawl was a singular word.

**_Remember?_ **

Hands shaking, Felicity detached the paper and let it flutter to the floor, revealing a familiar glossy photograph. She’d only ever seen it reproduced in black and white, though, in the newspapers. This was in full-blown color, as bright and vivid as the day it had been taken in 1996. Donna Smoak's body lay face down in a chalk circle, her left leg twisted at an impossible angle, a pool of blood beneath her. Her right arm was extended towards Noah Kuttler, Felicity’s father, who was lying face up. His head was caved in on one side from blunt force trauma, and a gash split his torso from throat to groin. Some of his entrails had been yanked out and were lying next to him on the ground. Beneath the first photo were half a dozen others, taken from different angles, but all equally gruesome and distressing.

A choked noise between a moan and a scream slipped from Felicity’s mouth. She dropped to her knees on the floor, trembling all over and her fear jumping into hyperdrive. She couldn’t look away from the horrific photos, but she could barely breathe. Her lungs felt like they were crushed inside her chest - just as crushed as her father’s head was in the picture. Numbness swept over her, everything sweeping from her mind until the only thing she could think about was her parents.

“Felicity!?” Oliver shouted, his voice sounding panicked.

In the distance, someone jiggled the doorknob. Feet clattered up the stairs, a key scraped in the lock. The door burst open, and Felicity slowly raised her eyes to see the vampire's ashen face, along with Rene's concerned one. She sobbed. Oliver moved so quickly to crouch and scoop her into his arms that Rene had to realize he wasn’t human. Turning her face into his chest, Felicity clutched onto his sweater desperately as she shook uncontrollably.

“I’ve got you,” the vampire whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She shuddered, emitting a broken sound.

“If I give you my keys, can you move the car to All Souls for me?” she faintly heard Oliver ask Rene, as he cradled her protectively. “Felicity shouldn't be alone.”

“I’ll move it to the warden's lot,” Rene replied. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I’ll look after her and make sure she is.” Oliver tossed the porter his keys, who caught them neatly.

Flashing Felicity one last worried look, Rene closed the door.

“Oliver,” she tightened her fist in his shirt. “I - I think I'm going to be sick.”

The vampire swiftly led her to the bathroom. Sinking next to the toilet, Felicity threw up. The pictures slipped from her grasp to the floor as she gripped the sides of the bowl. Once her stomach was empty, the worst of her shaking subsided, but every few seconds a tremble radiated through her. Once she’d closed the lid and flushed the toilet, Felicity tried to reach out for the counter to stand. Her head spun and her knees buckled beneath her weight. Fortunately, Oliver was there to catch her before she hit the bathroom wall.

Suddenly, Felicity’s feet weren’t on the ground anymore, and she was being carried bridal-style. Oliver's chest was pressed against her right shoulder and his arms underneath her knees as he carried her out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. Moments later, he laid her gently on her bed and turned the light on, angling the shade away. Felicity’s wrist was trapped in his cool fingers uncomfortably, but she didn’t have the strength to pull away. With his touch, however, her heart rate began to slow.

“I'm going to get you something to drink.”

Oliver vanished from her side. Another wave of panic washed over her. Her fight and flight instincts took over and Felicity rolled over to jump to her feet. She needed to run as far and as fast as possible. But as soon as she stood, the vampire was in front her and grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to make eye contact.

“Felicity, stop. You need to lie down. You’re in shock.”

She struggled against his grasp, shivering all over and not knowing or caring what he was saying. “Let me go,” she pleaded, pushing against his chest with both hands.

“Felicity, stop. Look at me.” He didn’t loosen his grip until the witch forced herself to meet his eyes. As soon as she was staring into an ocean of endless blue, she swallowed, the boulder sitting on her heart easing slightly. “Good. Now tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“My parents,” she whispered. “Alena, she - she told me witches killed my parents.”

Oliver’s gaze darkened. “When did this happen? Where were they? Did the witch leave a message on your phone? Did she threaten you?” he demanded.

“Nigeria. She said the Smoaks have always been trouble.”

“I'll go with you. Let me make a few phone calls first.” Oliver took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I'm so sorry, Felicity.”

She peered up at him, bewildered. “Go where?” Nothing was making any sense.

Now Oliver looked confused. “To Africa. I mean - well…” he lowered his voice. “Someone will have to identify the bodies, Felicity.”

“My parents were murdered when I was seven.”

His eyes widened with shock. “Why did Alena mention them if it happened twenty years ago?”

“Even though it happened so long ago, my parents are all the witches want to talk about these days,” she said bitterly. “Alena, Merlyn… they think they can scare me into submission by bringing them up in conversation.” Shivering as the panic escalated, she closed her eyes when Oliver stroked over her hair, shushing her gently. “Bad things happen to witches who keep secrets. Alena said so. And now I’m keeping secrets from them and they’re threatening me -”

“I will not let Merlyn or any other witch harm you,” Oliver said ferociously. The sheer emotion in his voice was enough to tip Felicity over the edge and she started to cry. His furious face transformed into one of sadness and the vampire rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “Why didn't you tell me about your parents, _mon coeur_?”

“I thought you already know, and I thought that they were killed by humans,” she whispered. “When Alena said they were actually killed my witches, I never thought to believe - I didn’t think that -” she shook her head, her voice failing her.

“I know,” Oliver said, embracing her. “I know. It’s okay. I’m going to protect you. It’s all right.”

Somewhere in the center of Felicity’s, a rusty chain began to unwind. It freed itself, link by link, from where it had rested unobserved. What was even stranger about it was that the chain seemed to have been waiting for him. Her hands, which had been balled up and pressed against Oliver’s chest, unfurled with it. The chain continued to drop, to an unfathomable depth where there was nothing but darkness and the vampire. For a moment, Felicity felt as if she was falling into an abyss. At last, it snapped to its full length, anchoring her to Oliver.

Despite the manuscript, despite the creatures stalking and threatening her, and despite the photograph, as long as Felicity was connected to him, she was safe.

It took a while for her to calm down, but when her sobs eventually quieted, Oliver drew away. “I'm going to get you some water, and then you're going to rest.” His tone did not invite discussion.

“Okay,” she replied quietly.

He was gone and back from the kitchen in a matter of seconds, carrying a glass of water and two tiny white pills. "Take these," the vampire said, handing them over along with the water. “They’re sedatives. I've been carrying them around with me ever since you told me you suffered from panic attacks.”

Felicity shook her head. “I hate taking tranquilizers, I told you that.”

“I know, but you've had a shock, and you've got too much adrenaline in your system. Exercise isn’t going to cut it, this time. You need to rest.”

His stern look encouraged the witch to pop both pills into her mouth and swallow them down along with a gulp of water. After that, Oliver gathered up the duvet and arranged it around Felicity until she was encased in a lumpy, warm cocoon.

“Will you stay?” she mumbled.

“Of course.”

Oliver had already seen her face tear-stained and messy, so she wasn’t embarrassed at all to ask, “Will you cuddle with me?”

“Do you want that?” he asked simply.

“Yes.”

“Then shuffle over.”

She did so, making space for him. He sat down and pulled off his shoes before stretching out, his back propped up against the pillows. When Oliver scooted down to pull the witch’s duvet-wrapped body against him, Felicity sighed. The vampire’s secure hold of her helped her relax further as the medicine worked its way through her bloodstream, luring her into a drug-induced calmness.

As Felicity was drifting off to sleep, Oliver’s phone vibrated in his pocket, startling her into wakefulness. “Who is it?”

“It's nothing, probably Dinah about some experimental results, or Roy,” he replied, brushing his lips against her forehead. Felicity relaxed again, her heartbeat settling. “Try to rest. You aren't alone anymore.”

Felicity nodded and closed her eyes. She could still feel the chain that anchored her and Oliver together, joining them soul to soul. With the links of the silver chain tight and gleaming, she slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is oliver's POV!


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Also - Happy Holidays!
> 
> So, so happy you all enjoyed the last chapter so much! Here's the next, in Oliver's POV! It's a little short, but all the chapters from here on are actually quite long.
> 
> Thanks for all your support and I hope you enjoy!

The sky was dark outside Felicity's windows before Oliver could bring himself to leave her side. Although she’d been restless at first, the witch had at last fallen into a deep sleep that he knew would be hard to wake her from. He’d noted the subtle changes in her scent as her shock subsided, a chilling aggressiveness sweeping over him every time he thought of Merlyn and that witch, Alena.

Oliver couldn't remember the last time when he'd felt so protective of another person. He felt other emotions as well, that he was reluctant to name. But it was clear Felicity shared his feelings and reciprocated them. He wasn’t exactly sure what to think about that. One part of him was delighted, and the other filled with dread. It would be so easy for him to hurt her. He would kill himself before letting that happen, but all it would take was a second of lacking control. He was reminded of that daily when he saw her and the incredible honeysuckle smell of her blood swamped his senses.

He kept on reminding himself that Felicity was a witch, and there was no way any sort of relationship between them could happen, as he watched her sleep. But the more he tried to convince himself, the less that seemed to matter.

Once he was certain she was unconscious and wouldn’t be waking for at least several hours, Oliver gently extracted himself and crept from the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack just in case. Alone in the living room, the vampire finally released the intense fury that had been seething inside him since that morning. The power of it almost choked him. He shakily drew the leather cord from the neck of his sweater and touched the worn, smooth surfaces of Lazarus's silver coffin. The sound of Felicity's even breathing was all that restrained him from leaping through the night to hunt down the two witches who had threatened her.

His phone buzzed. Sighing, the vampire pulled it out of his pocket and checked the messages. It was an automatic notification from the security systems at the labs saying that Dinah had entered the history lab, but he quickly thumbed past that, seeing other notifications filling his screen. There were several texts from Roy. The younger vampire was not one prone to alarm, so Oliver was curious as to why his son was messaging him.

From: Roy Harper - _Dinah finally got Felicity’s test results through. They’re surprising. Call me._

The following texts were just exclamations of his name and questions of whether or not Oliver was ignoring him, or busy. The last one was frantic, asking whether or not he was even alive.

Calling the younger vampire, Oliver raked his hair with his free hand while he waited for Roy to pick up. It took only one ring.

“Oliver,” Roy said, sounding relieved. “You’re alive. Great. I thought you were dead for a moment there. That would have been inconvenient as hell.”

Oliver didn’t bother with pleasantries and ignored the younger vampire’s poor attempt at a joke. “What did the tests show?” he asked, voice low.

There must have been something off with his tone, because Roy immediately asked, “What's happened?”

The photos lying faceup on the floor of the bathroom caught Oliver's attention. Felicity had been clutching them that afternoon, but he hadn’t had a chance to look at them properly. He’d only been focused on her. His eyes narrowed to slits as he took in the images. “Where are you?” he rasped.

“At home,” Roy replied. “Dinah got annoyed that I kept asking where you were and kicked me out of the lab. She said she didn’t know but it was highly likely you were with Felicity. Were you? Are you still with her?”

Oliver didn’t answer the question, instead bending down to pick the terrible photos off the floor and trace their scent to where a piece of paper had slid half under the couch. He read the single word of the message, took a sharp breath. At least he knew now why Felicity had panicked so much. This was not a threat to be taken lightly. “Bring the genetic reports and my passport to New College. Felicity's rooms are in the garden quadrangle at the top of staircase seven. And Roy? Hurry.”

Twenty minutes later, Oliver opened the door cautiously, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end. Roy blinked in shock at his outraged expression, but Oliver couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about how the younger vampire had to take a step backward, wary of pissing him off further. Roy held out a manila folder with a maroon passport folded around it, every move deliberately slowly, and patiently stood out in the corridor. He was waiting for the older vampire to give him permission to come into Felicity’s rooms, which Oliver appreciated. He didn’t know how he would react if Roy tried to come in without asking, as Merlyn had done.

Eventually, Oliver took the folder and stepped aside to let Roy enter. As the younger vampire brushed past him, his hackles rose and a reflexive growl caught in his throat. He knew it was stupid to react in such a volatile manner towards his son, but he wanted nothing more than to protect Felicity - even if that meant protecting her from his own family.

Oliver could still distinctly remember how he’d met Roy, back in 1777 - and how the young man had changed his life forever. During the American Revolution, he’d come across Roy in the medical tent after Oliver had helped carry his friend, the wounded Marquis de Lafayette, from the killing fields at the Battle of Brandywine. A young surgeon at the time, Roy had shown great gifts when it came to healing and Oliver had been impressed, so much so that he’d insisted that Roy remain with the Lafayette as his nurse while he went out to command the Frenchman’s troops instead. After leading them to victory at Brandywine, and Lafayette had healed, they’d moved on to Pennsylvania and New York, leaving Roy behind. But long after Lafayette had returned to France, Oliver had stayed behind in America, and always sought Roy out whenever one of his own men was injured.

When Oliver had gone to visit some of his own stricken men after the Battle of Yorktown in 1781, he’d been devastated to learn that Roy had caught a fever. The young man’s gift for healing meant nothing when he was only able to lay cold and shivering. After four days of suffering, Oliver had become certain that Roy was slowly dying. The scent of death had surrounded the young medic. He hated to think that Roy’s life and incredible skills were going to go to waste - and after years of relying on Roy to help his own soldiers, he’d become rather fond of him. So he’d offered to turn Roy into a vampire and invited him to join the Queen family. At first, Roy had thought he was dreaming. A man who drank blood and found it impossible to die? It sounded ridiculous, and Oliver knew it. He went on to explain that although Roy could survive the fever, there would be a price. First, he would have to be reborn. Then he would have to hunt, and kill, and drink blood - even human blood. But after that, Oliver had promised to send Roy to university while he got used to his new life. Sometime before dawn, when the pain became excruciating, Roy had decided he wanted to live more than he feared the new life the vampire had laid out for him. He’d finally agreed.

Oliver had carried him, limp and burning with fever, out of the hospital and into the woods, where he’d proceeded to turn him by draining Roy of blood and then letting him drink his own. The first couple of months had been hell. Oliver had begun to regret turning Roy, as the younger vampire seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for blood. But eventually, he’d managed to train Roy to hunt safely for himself and teach him the ethics that came with determining which humans to feed on.

Roy had settled down in his new life as a vampire, much to Oliver’s relief. Hundreds of years had passed, and he’d developed into a strong, intelligent and able young man, worthy of being part of the Queen family - although he refused to take on that name for himself, preferring to bear his own surname. Although he still acted slightly immature and like a child, he respected Oliver as his sire - his vampire father - and listened to him accordingly, which was why he was now on Oliver’s creature genetics research team.

“What do you think?” Roy questioned, startling the older vampire out of his musings.

His eyes flickered down to the DNA reports and he started reading. Within minutes, he’d finished pouring over the results. “There must be a mistake.”

Roy shook his head. “Dinah and I analyzed her blood twice. We confirmed all the results from her cheek swab. I know, they’re... surprising.”

“They're impossible,” Oliver breathed. “Everything before pointed to species decline.”

“Felicity possesses basically every genetic marker indicating a magical power we've ever seen in a witch. You’re right, it is impossible, but it’s true.” Roy reached over to flip over the final pages of the report. “But these sequences are concerning us. Well, actually - they’re seriously freaking us out. Dinah almost threw a chair. Take a look.”

Frowning, Oliver leafed quickly through the data. There were more than two dozen sequences of DNA, some short and some long, with tiny red arrows drawn in pointing to specific gene markers. Dinah had scribbled little question marks next to them.

She’d found entirely new, undiscovered witch genetic markers in Felicity’s genome.

“ _Merde_ ,” Oliver muttered. He tossed the file back at Roy, turning around and running his hands through his hair to tug at it painfully. “I can’t deal with this right now. We already have enough to worry about.”

“What happened?” Roy asked.

“That bastard Malcolm Merlyn threatened Felicity. He wants the manuscript. Felicity tried to recall it, but Ashmole 782 has gone back into the Bodleian and won't come out again. Merlyn’s convinced for now that she first obtained it by deliberately breaking its spell, thank god.”

“She didn't?”

“No. Felicity doesn't have the knowledge or control to do anything that intricate. Her magic is completely undisciplined and she has no mastery over her powers.” He huffed unhappily. “She attacked Merlyn outside the Bodleian with an elemental spell, and somehow simultaneously cast a disguising spell to stop the humans from seeing her do it.”

Roy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“She didn’t even know what she was doing. And then she made sparks with her fingers and put a hole in my rug.”

Roy’s lips twitched into a smirk at that. Oliver shot him a glare and the younger vampire swiftly cleared his throat. “Then we keep Merlyn away and give Felicity a chance to come to terms with her abilities,” he suggested. “That doesn't sound too difficult.”

“Merlyn’s interest in Felicity is not the only thing I’m worried about. Felicity found these slipped under her door when she got home today.” Oliver picked up the photographs and their accompanying piece of paper, handing them to his son. Roy looked up at him, stunned. “Those are Felicity’s parents. I remember hearing about two American witches killed in Nigeria, but it was so long ago. I never connected them to Felicity.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roy said softly, staring at the pictures.

“There's more. From what I understand, Felicity’s always believed that her parents were killed by humans. That's the primary reason she's tried to keep magic from her life.”

Roy waved the DNA reports. “We know that won't work.”

“No,” Oliver agreed, grim-faced. “While I was in Scotland, another witch called Alena informed her that it wasn't humans at all, but witches who murdered her parents.”

“Did they?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted. “But there's clearly more to this situation than a witch's discovery of Ashmole 782. I intend to find out what it is. The pictures are a threat - and not an idle one. I thought the Smoak name would make the witches more cautious, but I’m starting to think I was wrong. No matter how great her innate talents might be, Felicity can't protect herself, and she's too damn self-reliant to ask for help.”

“She asked you,” Roy reminded him.

“I know. I don’t even want to think about what Merlyn might have done to Felicity already if I hadn’t returned from Scotland when I did to protect her.” Taking the photos back from Roy, Oliver slid them back into the envelope they’d come in. “Roy, I need a favor. I need you to stay here with Felicity for a few hours.”

“Where are you doing?”

“I'm going to find that witch, Alena.”

“You can't be sure it was Alena who delivered that picture,” Roy pointed out. “There are two different scents on it.”

Oliver nodded. Roy was right, there were two very different scents on the photo. The disgustingly rich scent of roses, strawberries, and cinnamon belonged to Alena. “The other belongs to Malcolm Merlyn.” The terrible smell of that bigot’s musky aftershave still burnt his nose.

The younger vampire looked incredulous. “Malcolm Merlyn wouldn’t send a threat to a witch. He couldn’t. He’s a member of the Congregation!"

Roy was referring to the nine-member council of daemons, witches, and vampires had been formed during the Crusades, with three representatives from each species. The Congregation's job was to ensure every creature's safety by seeing to it that no one caught the attention of humans. The idea of a member of the Congregation threatening another creature - specifically a creature of the same species - was ludicrous.

“If you make a move in his direction, it will be seen as a challenge to their authority,” Roy said. “Our whole family will be implicated. You aren't seriously considering endangering us just to avenge a witch, are you?”

Oliver took a threatening step towards his son. “Are you questioning my loyalty?”

“No, I'm questioning your judgment,” Roy replied, staring back at his father without fear. “This romance between you both is bad enough. The Congregation already has one reason to take steps against you. Don't give them another by breaking the Covenant.”

Oliver’s eyes slammed shut. He was hoping that Roy wouldn’t bring that up. The Covenant was a Congregation law that prohibited close relationships between different orders of creatures, as well as any meddling in human religion and politics.

“Nobody cares about that anymore,” he said defensively, his gaze drifting in the direction of Felicity's bedroom door.

“Shit, she doesn't understand about the Covenant, does she? And you have no intention of telling her. You damn well know you can't keep this secret from her indefinitely.”

“The Congregation isn't going to enforce a promise made nearly a thousand years ago in a very different world. This is the twenty-first century, Roy.” He swallowed, bracing his arm against the wall. “I’ve never felt so protective over anybody before.”

“You can protect her without causing a shitstorm,” his son murmured. “Don’t go after Alena or Merlyn tonight. Stay with Felicity. She needs you.”

Oliver exhaled. Felicity did need him. He could still smell her fear and shock, and detect the sedative circulating through her veins. When she woke up, she would be frantic, and Roy would have no idea how to calm her down, and probably wouldn’t be able to either, as her high adrenalin levels would confuse him. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll stay. Could you check her over for me? I might have missed something.”

Roy appeared relieved. “Okay.”

They headed into the bedroom, Oliver leading the way. Felicity was curled up under the duvet, still sleeping deeply. Roy glanced over at the older vampire, searching for his father’s permission before sitting down, and he only perched on the edge of the bed when Oliver nodded.

Oliver watched as Roy lifted one of her eyelids, then the other, and picked up her wrist, sniffing carefully. His son continued to probe Felicity's condition for the next couple of minutes, examining her pallor and listening to her heart rate and breathing.

“She’s fine,” he eventually determined. “She just needs a lot of rest.”

“Good.”

“Your scent is all over her,” Roy said flatly.

“I want the other vampires who have been stalking her to know she’s protected,” Oliver answered.

“You mean you want them to know who she belongs to.” The younger vampire’s eyes snapped up to him. “This relationship between you two is getting serious, isn’t it?”

Oliver didn’t reply. He didn’t really know what to say.

“Are you going to discuss the DNA findings with Felicity?” Roy questioned, changing the subject.

“No,” he said shortly. “And I’m not going to share what Merlyn and the witches of the Congregation might do to her now they know about how close we are, either. She's been through enough.”

An irritated and angry expression flitted over Roy’s face. “Felicity Smoak is less fragile than you think. You have no right to keep that information to yourself, if you are going to continue to spend time with her.”

Rage swept over Oliver like a tidal wave. “Stay out of this, Roy!” he snarled at his son. “It's none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he retorted. “Your secrets are going to be the family's undoing.”

Oliver had his son pinned to the wall by the scruff of the neck before he'd finished speaking. He was furious, and Roy could obviously see that, because he leaned away warily. Luckily, Felicity wasn’t woken up by any of this. “My secrets have kept our family safe for many centuries. Where would you be today if not for my secrets?”

“Food for worms in an unmarked Yorktown grave, I expect,” Roy rasped, his vocal cords constricted by his father’s hand.

After a frigid minute or so, Oliver sighed and released his son, backing away. Roy slid down the wall, not expecting to be let go so soon. “Felicity might be brave, but she doesn't need to know everything now.”

“Does she know about our family, then? Your other children?” Roy paused and then asked in a much quieter, hesitant tone, “Does she know about your father?”

“I don't tell other vampires' tales.”

“You're making a mistake,” Roy said, shaking his head. “Felicity will react badly when she finds out what secrets you’re keeping from her.”

“When she's ready, I'll tell her everything,” Oliver promised, casting his eyes back towards where the witch was sleeping. “But now is not the time. My only concern right now is getting Felicity out of Oxford to safety.”

“Will you drop her off in Scotland? Surely she'll be beyond anyone's reach there, it’s so off-the-grid. Diggle can keep her safe. Or will you leave her at the Old Lodge before you go?”

“Before I go where?” he asked, confused.

Roy looked puzzled. “But - you had me bring your passport.”

“I have no intention of leaving Felicity. I'm taking her to Sept-Tours.”

The astonished expression on Roy’s face was almost comical. “No way. You can't possibly put her under the same roof as Moira!”

“It's my home, too,” Oliver said, jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Your mother openly boasts about the witches she's killed and blames every witch she meets for what happened to Thea and your father.”

Oliver felt his inner resolve crumbling at the mention of Robert. The photograph had reminded him of his father's death and his mother’s battle with madness in the years that followed. That had been a particularly dark time for his family - and for him, specifically. He pressed the palms of his hands against his temples. “Felicity had nothing to do with either tragedy. Moira will understand that.”

“She won't,” Roy said. “You know she won't. You might be her favorite son, Oliver, but she’ll hate you forever if you bring a witch home. No matter the reason.”

“There's nowhere as safe as Sept-Tours,” Oliver reasoned. “The witches will think twice before tangling with Moira - especially at her own home.”

Roy sighed. He could obviously sense that the older vampire had his mind set, and wasn’t going to change his plan. “Fine, take Felicity to Sept-Tours, but for god’s sake, don't leave the two of them alone together.”

“I won't. I'll need you and Dinah to move into the gatehouse at the Old Lodge in hopes that will convince everyone Felicity is there. They'll figure out the truth eventually, but it may win us a few days. My keys are with the porter - his name’s Rene. Come back in a few hours, when we've gone. Take the duvet from her bed and drive to Woodstock. That should trick any vampires who try and trace her scent. Stay there until you hear from me.”

“Can you protect yourself and that witch at the same time?” Roy asked, sounding worried.

“I can handle it.”

Roy nodded, and the two vampires gripped forearms, exchanging a meaningful look. Anything they needed to say to each other at moments like these had long since been said.

Once Oliver was alone again, he sank onto the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. Roy’s vehement opposition had shaken him. But at least his son had joined his side in the end.

He froze when he heard Felicity stir behind him. Twisting around, he brushed her hair away from her face just as it contorted into an expression of fright and pain, and she whimpered. Gathering her into his arms, the vampire cradled the witch against him, breathing out when she immediately seemed to calm at his touch. His protectiveness of her had returned, and with it, a renewed sense of purpose.

“I'm here,” he murmured, kissing her forehead tenderly. Felicity relaxed and nuzzled into his chest in her sleep. As Oliver gazed down at her, entranced, he wondered aloud, “Have you bewitched me?”

After tonight, he knew his need for her was greater than anything else. Neither his family nor his next taste of blood mattered as much as knowing that Felicity was safe and within arm's reach. His arms tightened and he swung one of his legs over her, embracing Felicity closely while she slumbered as he wouldn’t allow himself to when she was awake. If possible, she nestled even closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater - and the ampulla underneath it - as she rested her clenched hand over his heart. If this was what it meant to be bewitched, he was a lost man.

Were he not a vampire with enhances senses, Oliver wouldn't have caught her faint, murmured words. “You're not lost. I found you. I’ll always find you.”

Oliver wondered fleetingly if he'd imagined it, but knew that he hadn't. He was astounded for a moment, but then he couldn’t help but smile. Felicity Smoak seemed to be constantly finding ways to surprise him. The witch could hear his thoughts. Not all the time, not when she was conscious - at least, not yet. But it was only a matter of time before Felicity knew everything there was to know about him. She would know all of his secrets, the dark and terrible things he wasn't brave enough to face.

Felicity answered again, with another quiet mumble. “It’s okay. I can be brave enough for both of us.”

Oliver buried his head against her shoulder and wrapped her up in his arms. “You'll have to be, _mon adorée_.”


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!
> 
> I was blown away by the response to last chapter. Thank you all so much for your support! Your comments really mean the world to me xx
> 
> Enjoy this chapter!

Felicity woke up to the powerful taste of spices and roasted cacao nibs in her mouth, tangled in her sheets and bedding. She could sense that she was in her own bed, but it was dark and the lights had been switched off. The feeling of another body forming a shell around her back and arms wrapped around her waist caused her to freeze. Her breathing hitched until she recognized who it was by the person’s scent washing over her and the coldness of their skin leaching through her thin shirt.

“Oliver,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he murmured, his lips at her ear. The vampire was spooning her, his chest tight against her back and leaving no space between them. Felicity was pleasantly surprised; she hadn’t been expecting him to stay with her the entire night, despite her asking him to.

“What time is it?” she asked hoarsely.

Oliver slowly released her, sitting up on the side of the bed. Checking his watch, he relayed, “It’s just after one in the morning.”

“Fuck,” she muttered. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Since around five pm yesterday.”

Yesterday. All of the memories came flooding back. Felicity’s mind shattered into words and images: the alchemical manuscript, Merlyn’s threat, her fingers turning blue with electricity, the photographs of her parents. Waves of frigid, overwhelming emotion caused her chest to seize with a sob, but then she remembered Oliver’s kindness, soft words, and support. She relaxed. But as she allowed the memories to fall back into her subconsciousness, one of them stuck out for her.

“You gave me drugs.”

“I did,” he answered. “And I know you don’t like taking them, but you weren’t in the right place to refuse them last night. You were in shock and needed to rest. I wasn’t about to let you suffer needlessly.”

Felicity struggled with the duvet which was trapping her limbs, so Oliver stood and reached out to help her. He gave a single tug to the bed covering that was more effective than all of the witch’s previous wrestling with it.

New images swelled to the surface. Alena’s twisted face warned her about keeping secrets, and the piece of paper accompanying the terrible photos commanded her to remember. For a few moments, Felicity felt like she was seven years old again, trying to understand how her bright, vital parents could be gone from her life. That picture of her mother's hand stretching out for her father across a chalk-inscribed circle was etched permanently onto her mind. 

Felicity could faintly hear Oliver calling her name worriedly, feel his hand on her shoulder, but in the throes of panic and misery, she didn’t know how to accept his comfort. Abruptly pulling from his arms, she lifted her knees to her chest in a protective ball, struggling to control her breathing. 

Oliver braced her arms and lifted one hand to gently tilt her head up. Their gazes clashed and Felicity found herself unable to look away from his beautiful blue eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here and you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Without warning, Felicity closed the distance between them in a rush, hugging the vampire desperately. Her parents were gone, but Oliver was here, just like he said. Tucking her head under his chin, she listened for several minutes for the next pump of blood through his system. The leisurely rhythms of his vampire heart soon calmed her, the adrenalin trickling away and leaving her exhausted. Her eyes drooped closed, but as soon as she felt like she was going to slip back into a slumber, Felicity jolted and forced herself to stay awake.

“You’re tired,” Oliver said quietly. “It’s all right, you can sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

He started maneuvering her gently onto her side. She was asleep again before her head even hit the pillow.

_A flash of lightning. A black wolf turning towards her as thunder rumbled, its eyes lit up like wildfires._

_Her parents running. Flames licking at her mother and father’s heels. Accusing cries of_ witch! Sorcerer! Monster! _following them, lashing like whips against her parents’ backs. The magical shield behind them failing, flickering as it vanished and exposed them to the violence._

_The wolf in pursuit, snapping at her mother’s leg, fangs burrowing into her calf. Its jaws locking around her father’s arm, dragging him to the ground. Glowing arrows soaring from above, flying over the wolf’s head and striking her parents down._

_Silver blood pouring from their wounds, turning the grass below them bronze._

_The wolf transformed into Malcolm Merlyn, staring at her out of the darkness and bellowing,_ **REMEMBER!**

_She did. She glanced down at her own hands, which tingled and flared with light. The wolf lunged at her, just as the unseen archers released arrows on her. She cried out, covering her head as the projectiles pierced her body, erupting in pain._

Felicity’s heart was pounding when she awoke again in the pitch black, kicking at the loosened duvet and flailing to get into a seated position. Behind her, Oliver turned on the lamp, its shade still angled away from the bed.

“Oh god,” she wheezed, beginning to have trouble breathing once again as another realization hit her. Her entire dream with the wolf, the archers, and her parents...

“What is it?” he asked.

“The magic found me,” she said, her voice shaking with anxiety. “The witches did, too. I'll be killed for my magic, like my parents were killed.”

The adrenalin was back flooding her veins, screaming at her to run. Stumbling to her feet, Felicity staggered for the bedroom door.

Oliver was in front of her, holding her up against him before Felicity could take another gasping inhalation. “No. We're going to face this, Felicity, whatever it is. Otherwise you'll never stop running.”

Part of her knew that what Oliver was saying was true. The rest wanted to flee into the darkness. But how could she, with a vampire standing in the way? “No… no, I can’t. I can’t do this, I can’t deal with this -”

The air began to stir around Felicity, as if trying to drive off the feeling of being trapped. The air crept up her body, lifting the hair around her face in a gentle breeze, which then increased into powerful gusts of wind that ruffled the bedclothes and the curtains. The suffocating sensation just heightened her panic, and before Felicity could even begin to understand what was going on, there was a whirlwind sweeping through her rooms.

Oliver, who had been thrown away by the force of the winds, was shouting, “Felicity, it’s okay! It’s okay, you’re safe! I promise you, it’s all right!” His voice was pitched deliberately to be heard above the gusts of wind and to calm her at the same time.

But it wasn't enough. The force of the wind kept rising, and the whirlwind transformed into a thick column of dense air that enclosed Felicity as protectively as Oliver’s arms had while she’d slept. Fighting to his feet, Oliver stood on the other side of the disturbance, his hand extended and eyes fixed on hers. When Felicity opened her mouth to warn him to stay away, nothing came out but frigid air, which she choked on.

“It's all right,” Oliver repeated, not breaking his gaze. “I won't move. I’m not going to come near you.”

Felicity hadn't realized that was the problem until he said the words. She didn’t want Oliver coming in and trapping her. She didn’t want to feel confined.

“I promise,” he said firmly. “I’ll stay away. I promise.”

The wind faltered. The cyclone surrounding her became a whirlwind, then a breeze, then disappeared entirely. Utterly drained of energy and trembling all over, Felicity dropped to her knees on the hard floor with a groan. Oliver didn’t approach, remaining stock still on the other side of the room.

“What’s happening to me?” Felicity whispered to herself, horrified. She looked down frantically to make sure her hands weren't sparkling with electricity and her feet weren't still being buffeted by winds. But it seemed she was safe for now. “What was that?”

“That was a witchwind,” Oliver explained. He looked fascinated as he had before, not terrified like any other normal creature would. “Do you know what that is?”

“Not really,” she confessed.

“Some witches have the power to control the element of air, and not just through spells. Through their own personal will. It looks like you're one of them.”

Felicity shot him an intense glare. “That wasn't control.”

“It was your first time.” Oliver gestured around the bedroom; the curtains and sheets were rumpled but intact, papers were scattered everywhere, the lamp had been knocked over, and all of her clothing was strewn on the chest of drawers and floor - exactly where they'd been left that morning. “We're both still alive and standing, and although the room may look a little bit like a tornado went through it, nobody was hurt. That's control, for now.” He took a step closer to her. “You know, witchwinds and blue fingers are rare these days. Elemental spells as well. You’re powerful, Felicity. More than you could ever know.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“There's magic inside you; it’s stirring inside of you, and it wants to break free, whether you ask for it or not.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “There must have been some sort of trigger for the witchwind, though, like your anger was a trigger for your elemental spell and your blue fingers.”

“I felt trapped,” she murmured. “I’ve been feeling trapped for a while now.”

Oliver looked ashamed. “That’s partly my fault, I suspect. I shouldn't have cornered you last night. I’m sorry. All I wanted was for you to stand still for a moment and listen to me. Sometimes I don't know what to do with you. You're like... a perpetual-motion machine.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “I swear those are only hypothetical… they’re impossible because they violate the laws of thermodynamics.”

“The laws of thermodynamics don’t take magic into account,” the vampire told her. “And you’re brimming with it, despite the fact you’re desperately pushing it away. I don’t know how to process that, Felicity. I’m used to being in control but none of the usual rules of the world apply to you. It’s hard for me to anticipate how you’re going to act and react.”

“I know,” she exhaled. “I understand.” It must be hard for him to cope with her incessant need to move when Oliver was a vampire who barely needed to breathe.

“Am I forgiven?” he asked sincerely. She nodded. “Can I hug you?”

She nodded again, and he’d crossed the whole room to get to her within the same time it took for her to raise one of her feet. Felicity’s body pitched into Oliver’s and she rested against him as his arms circled her waist, his skin soothingly cool rather than frightening and cold. They stood silent for a few moments, holding each other. Felicity’s heart quieted, and the vampire’s arms remained loose, although his shuddering breath suggested that this was not easy.

“I'm sorry, too,” she said. “I'll try to keep my nervous energy under control.”

“There's nothing for you to be sorry about,” he replied, stroking his fingers over her cheek to push her usual stray lock of hair away. “And you shouldn't try so hard to be something you're not. Would you like a hot drink if I made you one?”

“What time is it now?” It was still dark outside, with no hint of the sun on the horizon.

“Nearly four am.”

Felicity sighed. “I'm really tired, but a hot drink sounds wonderful. It will need to be decaf, though. I shouldn’t have caffeine when I’m anxious like this.”

“How about some hot chocolate then?”

“You can make hot chocolate?” she asked in disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss against her forehead before heading off into the kitchen.

Not wanting to let him out of her sight, Felicity drifted along behind him. He rummaged through the cupboards to find a tin of cocoa powder and began heating milk in a pan on the stove top. Felicity leaned against the counter she watched him methodically stir in the cocoa, a little sugar and a pinch of salt until a smooth, dark concoction was made. Pouring her a mug, Oliver set it down in front of her. The aroma of the drink reminded her of Oliver’s own cacao scent and Felicity blushed, taking a sip. It was amazing. Hot, rich and bitter, but slightly sweet.

The vampire made himself a mug too, his nostrils flaring in appreciation. “This actually smells quite nice,” he acknowledged, taking a small sip. “Should we go and sit in the living room? We need to talk.”

They arranged themselves side by side on the comfortable old couch, legs touching. Oliver rose only to draw the curtains and turn on the lampshade instead of the lights, creating a dimmer glow through the room that hurt Felicity’s eyes much less.

“I need to understand why Merlyn thinks you broke the spell on Ashmole 782,” the vampire said, when they were both settled.

Felicity traced the rim of her mug with her finger, remembering the conversation she and Merlyn had when they were in Walter Steele’s office. “He said that spells become weaker around the anniversaries of their casting. Other powerful witches who know witchcraft have tried to break the spell before, and they've failed. He figured I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“A talented witch bound Ashmole 782, and I suspect the spell is nearly impossible to break. No one who's tried to get the manuscript before met its conditions, no matter how much witchcraft they knew or what time of year they tried.” Oliver stared down into his hot chocolate, looking as if he was trying to work out how to cure cancer rather then work out how a witch’s enchantment worked. “You did. The question is how, and why.”

“The idea that I could fulfill the conditions of a spell cast before I was born is harder to believe than that it was just an anniversary reaction. And if I met the conditions once, why not again? It didn’t work yesterday.” Felicity shook her head when Oliver’s eyes lit up and he opened his mouth to respond. “No, it's not because you were there. That shouldn’t have made any difference.”

“Merlyn knows witchcraft, and spells are complicated. I suppose it's possible that time distorts enchantments every now and again,” Oliver allowed, sounding unconvinced.

Felicity sunk back in the cushions. “I really wish I could see the pattern in all this.”

Her white table rose into view, with pieces of the puzzle spread out on it. Felicity began to mentally move the pieces around, consisting of Merlyn, Alena, the manuscript, her parents and her magic, but they stubbornly refused to form an image. It was frustrating as hell.

Oliver's voice broke through her thoughts. “Felicity?”

“Yep?”

“What are you doing?” he chuckled.

“Nothing,” she replied, a little too quickly to be casual.

The vampire smiled knowingly. “You're using magic,” he said, putting his mug down. “I can smell it. See it, too. You're shimmering again.”

“It's what I do when I’m trying to solve a mystery. I imagine a white table and all the different puzzle pieces in front of me,” she admitted reluctantly. “They have shapes and colors, and I move them all around until they form a pattern. When the pattern forms, they stop moving to show I'm on the right track.”

“How often do you play this game?” Oliver asked curiously.

“All the time. While you were in Scotland, I realized that it was more magic, like knowing who's looking at me by feeling their gazes.”

“There is a pattern, you know,” he observed, his gaze sharp. “You always seem to use your magic when you're not thinking.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you're moving, you don't think - not with the rational part of your mind, at least. You're somewhere else entirely when you row, or run, or do yoga. Without your mind keeping your powers in check, they just burst out of you. Your magic is instinctive and related to your emotions. You were upset and feeling trapped when the witchwind came, and you were angry with Dinah - and then with me- when your fingers started sparking.”

“Moods and movement are enough to trigger these forces? Who would want to be a witch if something so simple can make all hell break loose?” she asked, aghast.

“A great many people, I would imagine.” Oliver glanced away, conflicted. “I want to ask you to do something for me. And I want you to think about it properly before you answer. Will you do that?”

“Of course.”

“I want to take you home.”

“I'm not going back to America,” she immediately argued. It had taken her less than five seconds to do exactly what he'd asked her not to. But the idea of going back to Madison was one that just made her want to bite her nails down to their beds.

Oliver shook his head. “Not your home. _My_ home.”

“I already told you I'd go and stay in Woodstock,” she replied, confused.

“The Old Lodge is my house, Felicity,” he explained patiently. “I want to take you to my home. To France.”

“France?” She pushed the hair out of her face to get a clearer view of him.

"You need to get out of Oxford. The witches are intent on getting Ashmole 782 and keeping it from the other creatures. Their theory that you broke the spell and the prominence of your family are all that's kept them from full-on attacking you so far. When Merlyn and the others find out that you didn’t use witchcraft to obtain the manuscript and that the spell was set to open for you instead, they'll want to know how and why.”

Felicity’s eyes closed against the sudden, sharp image of her father and mother. “And let me guess... they won't ask nicely.”

“Probably not.” Oliver rubbed his hand over his face anxiously. “I saw the photos, Felicity. They’re a very clear threat against you. I want you away from Malcolm Merlyn, the creatures, and the Bodleian. Oxford isn’t safe for you, and there isn’t really anywhere in the UK that they won’t be able to track you. Under my roof, in France, you’ll be untouchable.”

“My parents… Alena said it was witches,” she whispered. When she raised her haunted eyes to meet his, Felicity was struck by how tiny his pupils were. Usually when he was around her, they were black and enormous, indicating the effect of her scent on him, but something was different about the vampire tonight. Oliver’s skin was less ghostly, and there was a touch more color in his normally pale lips. “Was she right?”

“I can't know for certain, Felicity. The Nigerian Hausa believe that the source of a witch's power is contained in stones in the stomach. From the pictures… it looks like someone went looking for them in your father,” Oliver said quietly. “The chalk circle around them also looks similar to a witch’s circle - used to trap them. Another witch is the most likely scenario.”

Felicity’s mobile phone began ringing from across the room, where the vampire must have plugged it in to charge. Placing her hot chocolate on the coffee table, the witch heaved herself to her feet to go and check it.

“That's the fifth time Sara and Nyssa have phoned,” Oliver called.

The flashing screen showing _5 Missed Calls_ underneath the current incoming call proved him right. Sara and Nyssa were freaking out, and Felicity knew she needed to reassure them. No matter how low the volume, the vampire was going to be able to hear the call, so Felicity sat back down on the couch next to him.

“I'm here, I'm here,” she assured them immediately.

“Oh thank fuck. We thought you were dead,” Sara said, relieved. Felicity winced guiltily. She should have called earlier. Sara and Nyssa were the only family she had left - it didn’t matter that they weren’t her blood - and they didn’t deserve the constant worry she was putting them through.

“I'm not dead. I'm in my rooms. Oliver is with me,” she added on the end, so they would know he was listening in. Felicity smiled at him weakly, but he didn't smile back.

“Felicity, what's going on?” Nyssa questioned, her voice stern. She was clearly upset at what her sixth sense was telling her about what was happening in Oxford.

“I tried to recall the manuscript yesterday,” Felicity informed them, trying to make her tone light as she didn’t want to concern them further. Oliver stared at her disapprovingly. He clearly didn’t like the fact that she was making out this wasn’t a big deal. Felicity angled her body away from him, but his glacial eyes bored into her shoulder instead. “This time it didn't come up from the stacks.”

“You think we're calling because of the book?” Sara demanded. “We’re calling because of you! Nyssa has been getting visions of you being swallowed up by shadows. We thought that the creatures had attacked you!”

Felicity startled when long, cold fingers grasped the phone and drew it away from her ear. Oliver stood up and took a step back. “Sara? Hi. We haven’t met or spoken before. This is Oliver Queen,” he said crisply. When Felicity jumped up to take the phone back from him, the vampire gripped her wrist and shook his head in warning, shooting her a strict look. “Felicity doesn’t want to tell you because she knows you’ll panic, but over the last couple of days, she's been threatened by other witches. One of them is Malcolm Merlyn.”

She didn't need to be a vampire to hear the outburst on the other end of the line. Oliver finally dropped her wrist and handed her the phone. Felicity shouldered past him with a half-hearted glower, heading into the kitchen. She heard soft footsteps behind her indicating that the vampire was following, but as long as he didn’t try and snatch the phone off her again, she was fine with it.

“How long has Malcolm Merlyn been hanging around?” Sara was asking frantically.

“Since the beginning,” Felicity admitted, her voice wavering. “He was the male witch I mentioned before, who tried to push his way into my head.”

“You didn't let him get very far, did you?” Sara sounded frightened.

“I did what I could, Sara. I don't exactly know what I'm doing, magic-wise.”

“You should tell them about the elemental spell you used against him,” Oliver said.

“What was that?” Nyssa asked sharply. “Did he just say an elemental spell?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Felicity shot Oliver an annoyed look. She didn’t want to give Nyssa and Sara an excuse to demand she take up proper witchcraft schooling. “All that matters is that Merlyn has been a massive pain in our asses lately.”

“A lot of us have problems with Malcolm Merlyn, Felicity,” Nyssa said. “For one thing, I know from the other Madison witches’ gossip and your parents’ scientific notebooks that your father didn't trust him - not at all.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “My father?” The floor shifted under her feet, and Oliver's arm circled Felicity’s waist, keeping her steady. She wiped at her eyes but couldn't remove the sight of her father's misshapen head and gashed torso in the photos.

Sara’s voice was much quieter and softer than before, as she could obviously hear how distressed Felicity was becoming. “What else happened? It’s not surprising that Merlyn scared the shit out of you, but there's more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Felicity tipped her head back so it was resting on Oliver’s chest. “Somebody sent me pictures of Mom and Dad.”

The silence stretched on the other end of the line.

“Oh, Felicity,” Nyssa murmured.

“Photos from Nigeria?” Sara asked grimly.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Put Queen back on the phone,” Sara ordered.

“He can hear you perfectly from where he's standing,” Felicity rolled her eyes. “Besides, anything you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Oliver’s hand moved from her waist to the small of her back and he slowly began to rub circles with the heel of his hand, pressing into the rigid muscles until they started to relax. Felicity glanced up at him with a grateful expression.

“Both of you listen to me, then. Get as far away from Malcolm Merlyn as possible,” Nyssa said. “And that vampire had better see that you do, or I'm holding him responsible. It’s known to all that Noah Kuttler was one the most easy-going men alive. It took a lot to make him dislike someone. It’s a well-known fact that he detested Merlyn.”

“You should come home,” Sara cut in. “You should come home right now. Hop on the next plane to New York and come back to us.”

“I've already decided that I’m going to France with Oliver,” Felicity told her. Sara's far less attractive option had just convinced her. Nyssa and Sara were lovely and had basically raised her, even though they were only slightly older than her, but they could be quite overbearing when they were concerned. Oliver was overprotective, but he still respected Felicity’s boundaries.

“France?” Nyssa echoed, confused.

Oliver held out his hand.

“Um, Oliver would like to speak to you.” Felicity passed him the phone before Sara or Nyssa could protest.

“Hi. I presume at least one of you has email? I’ll send you the address where Felicity and I will be staying along with some phone numbers you can contact us on. I can give you my personal number now, if you’d like to stay in touch.” One of her friends must have agreed, because Oliver rattled off the number. “Call anytime. Text as well, if you’d prefer. I don’t sleep much so no matter the time difference between New York and France, I’ll be available.” He paused, listening to them speak. Something was said that was pointed, because Oliver’s expression turned serious. “I care about her too. She won’t be in any danger. I’ll make sure she's safe.”

Once Felicity had the phone back, she told Sara and Nyssa apologetically, “I have to go now. I love you both. Don't worry.”

“Stop telling us not to worry,” Sara sighed. “You're our best friend, Felicity - Nyssa and I think of you as our adopted kid, in all honesty. We’re always going to worry about you.”

“What can I do to convince you that I'm all right?”

“Pick up the phone more often, for starters. I don’t want to have to keep calling that vampire of yours just to get the chance to talk to you, you hear me? The international bills are already hell.”

“I can pay them,” Felicity offered.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Nyssa said calmly. “Professor Queen is most definitely going to be sending us a cheque.”

Judging by Oliver’s impassive look and shrug, he was perfectly willing to do so. After they’d said their goodbyes, Felicity curled up with her legs beneath her, leaning on the vampire’s shoulder, but unwilling to meet his eyes. “I feel like all of this is my fault. I’m a witch, but I've been behaving like a clueless human.”

“You made your decision to keep magic out of your life when you were a child, because you were scared and lonely after what happened to your parents,” he said gently. “Now, every time you take a step in the world of creatures you’ve been thrust into, it's as though your entire future hinges on whether you manage to put your foot down in the right place. But you don’t have to traverse the world alone. I’m here beside you and I can help guide your way.” He silently took Felicity’s hands within his. “In France, maybe you can just be you for a few days. You don’t have to try and be something you’re not, and you don’t have to worry about making mistakes, or keeping your head on a swivel. You can rest.”

“I don't have time to rest, Oliver,” she mumbled into his shirt. “And I feel like if I stop moving forward, I’ll never get going again.” She pulled away from him, propping her elbow on the armrest and her head on her hand. Felicity was already having second thoughts about leaving Oxford. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to France. There’s an alchemy conference in less than six weeks and I’m meant to be delivering the opening lecture. I've barely started writing my paper for it, and without access to the Bodleian there's no chance of finishing it in time.”

Oliver's eyes narrowed speculatively and he cocked his head to the side. “Your paper is on alchemical illustrations, I assume?”

“Yes, on the allegorical image tradition in England,” she nodded.

“Then I don't suppose you would be interested in seeing my fourteenth-century copy of _Aurora Consurgens_. It's French, regrettably, but I’ll be able to provide translations. It’s from 1356.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and awe. The _Aurora Consurgens_ was an extremely confusing, complex manuscript about the opposing forces of alchemical transformation - silver and gold, female and male, dark and light. Its illustrations were equally complicated to understand. “But the earliest known copy of the _Aurora_ is from the 1420s. Your copy can’t be illustrated if it’s from such an early date.”

“It is.”

“Does it contain all thirty-eight images?” she asked eagerly.

Oliver grinned at her excitement. “It actually has forty. It would seem that previous historians have been wrong about several particulars.”

Discoveries on this scale were rare. To be the first alchemical historian to examine an unknown, fourteenth-century illustrated copy of _Aurora Consurgens_ was the opportunity of a lifetime. “What do the extra illustrations show? Is the text the same?”

The vampire raised an eyebrow. “You'll have to come to France to find out.”

“Let’s go then.”

“You won't go for your own safety, but you will when I bribe you with a manuscript?” Oliver shook his head ruefully. “So much for common sense."

Ignoring his jab at her, Felicity questioned, “When do we leave then?”

“An hour,” the vampire informed her. She blinked in shock. Clearly, this was not a spur-of-the-moment decision. He'd been planning it since she’d fallen asleep the night before. “There's a plane waiting at the airstrip by the old American Air Force base. How long do you think it will take you to get your things together?”

Her head was spinning at all the sudden changes that were happening and going to happen, but she was able to respond, “That depends on what I need to bring with me.”

“Nothing much. Once we’re home, we won't be going anywhere. Pack warm clothes, sweaters, and jackets. Proper shoes like boots and trainers. You might want to bring something nice to wear to dinner in the evenings, but it doesn’t need to be too fancy. It will be just the two of us, along with my mother and her housekeeper.”

Felicity went still. “Your mother?”

“Not my biological mother,” Oliver explained. “Moira. My vampire mother. She sired me. Raisa is also a vampire and has served the Queen family for hundreds of years.”

Staying with Oliver was one thing. A houseful of unfamiliar vampires was another. Caution about taking such a dangerous step pushed aside some of her desperation to get somewhere safe where Merlyn and the creatures couldn’t find her. Felicity’s hesitation must have shown, because Oliver’s face fell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tinged with hurt. “Of course, you have no reason to trust my mother. But she did assure me that you would be safe with her and Raisa.”

Felicity swallowed, but steeled herself. “If you trust them, then I do, too.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a small smile. His eyes drifted down to her mouth, and Felicity flushed as she felt her blood start to tingle in response. “You begin packing, and I'll wash up the mugs and make a few phone calls.” As Felicity nodded and stood, he lifted her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. “You’re doing the right thing, Felicity. And I really appreciate the trust you’re placing in me here.”

Sorting through her wardrobe to find suitable clothes was a lot harder than Felicity thought it might be. It was almost laundry day, and her bedroom was draped with dirty clothes, making her choices limited. A rummage through the wardrobe yielded several nearly identical pairs of black skinny jeans that were clean, a few pairs of leggings, and half a dozen colorful t-shirts, tops, and sweaters. There was a beat-up duffel bag on top of it, and Felicity jumped up and snagged the strap with one hand. The clothes all went into it, along with her fleece jacket for running and rowing. She also chucked in two pairs of trainers, socks, and underwear, along with some old yoga clothes. She didn't really own any decent pajamas so she could sleep in those. Her passport was tucked into her sock drawer, so she quickly pulled that out. Remembering what Oliver had said about dinner, Felicity slipped in a semi-formal red dress, a black one, and then two casual sundresses.

As Felicity packed, the vampire's low voice floated down from the living room. She couldn’t help but eavesdrop slightly. He talked first to Rene, then to Roy and Dinah, and then to a taxi company. With the bag's strap over her shoulder, the witch maneuvered awkwardly into the bathroom. But it seemed that Oliver had already been in there and swept her toiletries from the counter. She picked up her hair dryer and some of her daily make-up, considering the vampire had left it behind.

When she was finished, she re-joined Oliver in the living room. He was thumbing through the messages on his phone, Felicity’s laptop case at his feet. He’d already packed her charger cord for her. There was a plastic bag full of her toiletries on the table. “Is that all?” he asked, eyeing the duffel bag with surprise.

“You told me I didn't need much.”

“Yes, but I'm not used to women listening to me when it comes to luggage. When Dinah goes away for the weekend, she packs enough for two weeks, and my mother requires multiple suitcases.” He passed over her toiletries. “I didn’t know you needed glasses.”

Felicity immediately felt her face heat up as her cheeks reddened. “Finally discovered my greatest secret, I see.” She’d started wearing contact lenses at the age of sixteen and only ever wore her glasses in an emergency. Her eyesight wasn’t that bad. She could cope without glasses or contacts for a couple of hours at a time.

“Your contacts are in there,” Oliver smiled. “But I would like to see you in your glasses one day.”

“Maybe,” she said vaguely, not promising anything.

“Do you have your passport?”

“It's in my bag with my wallet,” she told him, shrugging on her black leather jacket.

“We can go, then,” Oliver said, his eyes sweeping the rooms one last time.

“Where are the photos?” It seemed wrong to just leave them here.

“Roy has them,” he said quickly.

“When was Roy here?” she asked, frowning.

“While you were sleeping, and he came over just a couple of minutes ago to drop off a bag for me. Do you want me to get them back for you? I can call and ask him to come back.”

“No.” Felicity shook her head. There was no reason for her to look at them again.

Oliver took her bags and managed to get them down the stairs with no mishaps, which was a great feat, as Felicity remembered tripping at least five times when she’d first been moving in.. A taxi was waiting outside the college gates. Felicity watched curiously as Oliver stopped for a brief conversation with Rene in the porter’s lodge. The vampire handed the porter a card, and the two men shook hands. Some deal had been struck between them, but Felicity suspected that the particulars of it would never be disclosed to her. It was nearly six am by the time they got into the taxi, the lights of Oxford fading behind him as they left the city.

As they headed out into the countryside, Felicity asked, “Why didn't we take your car?” She was going to miss the Jaguar.

“This is better,” Oliver explained. “There's no need to have Roy fetch it later - and taxis are harder to be traced than personal vehicles.”

The journey took around half an hour, and Felicity found that she was still so tired that the sway of the car was rocking her sleep. She dozed, leaning against Oliver’s shoulder, and he tucked her into his side and propped his head on top of hers while they traveled. At the airport, a small but incredibly sleek private jet had its engines purring when they arrived. Felicity didn’t know why she was impressed - Oliver had a lot of money, and she knew that. It wasn’t completely shocking for him to own his own plane. They were airborne soon after they’d had our passports checked, and the pilot filed the paperwork.

The witch and vampire sat opposite each other on couches arranged around a low table during the takeoff. Felicity yawned every few minutes, ears popping as the plane climbed. Once they reached cruising altitude, Oliver unsnapped his seat belt and gathered up some pillows and a blanket from a cabinet under the windows.

“It will take about an hour to reach France,” he said, propping the pillows at the end of Felicity’s couch, which was about as deep as a twin bed. He held the blanket up to cover her. “You should try and get some sleep.”

Felicity bit her lip, uncertain. She didn't want to sleep. The photographs of her parents were etched on the inside of her eyelids and she was scared that she was going to have nightmares about seeing them killed again.

Sensing her unease, Oliver crouched next to her, the blanket hanging lightly from his fingers. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I don't want to close my eyes,” she whispered.

A look of determination on his face, Oliver tossed all the pillows except one onto the floor and sat beside her, placing the pillow done onto his lap and patting it invitingly. “Come here. I noticed you slept a lot better last night when I was touching you. This might help.”

Felicity obediently swung around so she was lying down on the couch instead of sitting, resting her head on his lap and stretching out her legs. Oliver tossed the edge of the blanket from his right hand to his left so that it covered her in soft folds. Running his fingers through her loose hair, he gently combed out the tangles. It was so tender and soothing that she immediately felt more relaxed.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“You're welcome.” The vampire took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Sleep. I'll be right here.”


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everybody!!!! *gleefully throws 2018 to the curb and accepts 2019 with open arms* Hopefully this year is a good (better) one.
> 
> Started off the year pretty well, actually - _seemingly impossible_ was featured in a [Pure Fandom article about the best Arrow and Olicity fics of 2018!](https://www.purefandom.com/2018/12/30/arrow-and-olicity-your-favorite-fan-fictions-of-2018/) I was absolutely shocked, overjoyed and delighted - thank you to everybody who nominated it! xx Your support is really appreciated!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Felicity… it’s time to wake up. We’re about to land.”

Groaning, Felicity turned her face into Oliver’s leg. Her sleep had been heavy and dreamless, and she’d rested more in the last hour than she had really in the last week. The vampire trailed his cool fingers over her cheek to sweep her hair back.

“What time is it?” she asked groggily, disoriented as she struggled to sit up.

“Eight in the morning,” he answered, prodding her legs so they swung off the couch to the floor. “You slept through the entire flight. We’re just outside Lyon, in the Auvergne. It’s about a two-hour drive to Sept-Tours from here.” When Felicity yawned again, he added, “You can nap in the car.”

“I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she said, rubbing at her eyes.

“You’ve had a rough couple of days,” Oliver replied. “And the witchwind would have drained all your energy.”

“Makes me a rather lousy traveling companion though.”

“I’d much rather you get the sleep you need than you force yourself to make conversation with me despite your exhaustion,” he said softly.

“You’re not just saying that because you like to watch me sleep, right?” she asked, with a teasing raised eyebrow.

Oliver looked flustered. “No. O-Of course not.”

"That's one thing the teen vampire romance novels have got wrong then."

"One of many, I assure you."

The pilot announced they needed to buckle up, and ten minutes later, the plane was landing in the private area of the busy regional airport. Their passports and travel documents were checked by a bored-looking civil servant, but as soon as he saw Oliver’s name, he snapped to attention and stammered in French for them to follow him to the private car park.

“Do you always travel this way?” Felicity asked. It was much easier than flying a commercial airline through London Heathrow or Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport.

“Privately? Yes,” Oliver chuckled. “The one time I'm happy that I'm a vampire and have money to burn is when I travel.”

A pair of car keys were handed over to Oliver, and he led Felicity to a dark grey Tesla parked over two spaces. It was just as deluxe and elegant as his Jaguar. They stashed their bags in the boot before clambering in. Once they were out of Lyon, they drove west through beautiful countryside, studded here and there with grand châteaus and steep mountains. Grand fields and vineyards stretched in every direction, and even under the cloudy sky, the land seemed to blaze with the bright colors of autumn.

Felicity did find herself dozing with her eyes closed for part of the journey, but her body sensed the car slow as Oliver turned it down a narrow street. She glanced about curiously when the vampire pulled the Tesla off to the side of the road, pointing off to the distance.

“There,” he said. “Can you see? That’s Sept-Tours.”

Nestled deep into the rolling hills was a huge stone castle. Seven grand towers surrounded it, and a turreted gatehouse stood guard in front. It was an incredible fortress in its own right, towering above a small town that was curled around the base of the hill.

“That's your home?” she said, amazed.

“That's home.” Oliver smiled tightly and pulled back onto the road.

Seeing the place where she would be staying for safety just reminded Felicity of who exactly she was going to be staying with. “Is your mother expecting us?” she questioned, just managing to keep the tremor out of her voice as she turned to face the vampire.

Oliver didn’t respond for a moment, but then nodded and said in a very casual tone, “Yeah, she is. I called her while you were asleep on the plane to tell her what time we’d be arriving.”

“And this is all right with her?” She didn't ask the real question flitting through her mind. _Are you sure it's okay that you're bringing a witch home?_

“It’s fine, ” he responded with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes. “You did tell your mother I’m a witch, didn’t you?”

Oliver's eyes remained fixed on the road, but he scoffed under his breath. “Of course I did. Moira doesn't like surprises as much as I do.”

They drove between rows of chestnut trees, climbing up the hill until they reached Sept-Tours. Oliver steered the car underneath an arch between two of the seven towers, and through to a large paved courtyard in front of the entrance of the central castle and parked up. Vast gardens spread to either side with huge water features and rose gardens that would make the estates of Buckingham Palace look unimpressive in comparison. Stepping out of the car, Oliver opened up Felicity’s door and offered his hand to help her out.

“Are you ready?” he asked with a bright smile.

“As I'll ever be," she replied warily, taking his hand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Oliver reassured. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Pulling her leather jacket closer around her, Felicity gazed up at the château's imposing stone façade. As they approached the front doors, the forbidding lines of the castle were nothing compared to what awaited inside. The doors swung open, revealing Moira Queen, regal and icy. She was beautiful and could not be a day over the age of forty. Felicity gulped and Oliver quickly slid his fingers from her shoulder down to her hand, gripping it comfortingly. Moira glared at her vampire son as they climbed the stone stairs.

Oliver stooped a full foot as he approached his mother to kiss her softly on both cheeks. “Hello, _Maman_. Felicity, this is my mother, Moira de Reine. Maman, this is Dr Felicity Smoak.”

Moira narrowed her eyes at Felicity.

“Can we come inside, or should we continue our greetings out here?” Oliver continued.

His mother stepped back to let them pass. “After you,” she murmured, her voice harsh but also melodic.

Felicity hunched her shoulders and huddled into Oliver’s side as they walked past, feeling Moira’s furious, freezing gaze on her face. Striding through a short, dark hallway, they headed into a large room with high ceilings and wall paintings by some imaginative nineteenth-century artist to reflect a medieval past that never was, including beautiful images of winged lions, fleurs-de-lis and a snake with his tail in his mouth. At one end, a circular set of stairs climbed to the top of one of the taller towers.

Once they were inside, Felicity faced the full force of Moira's stare. Oliver's mother personified the terrifying elegance that seemed bred to the bone in French women. Like her son - who disconcertingly appeared to only be slightly younger than she was - she held herself in an intensely graceful manner, head held high and back straight.

“You might have shown some consideration, Oliver,” Moira said stiffly. “A witch, staying on vampiric land? Staying within the castle walls under our protection? I can’t imagine what our neighbors will be saying.”

“Afraid of the gossip, _Maman_?” Oliver raised an eyebrow. “I thought you prided yourself on being a radical.”

The female vampire bristled angrily. “I have never been a radical. Change is very much overrated.”

Moira turned around and surveyed Felicity from head to toe. Her perfectly formed mouth tightened. She did not like what she saw. Felicity shifted self-consciously; she tried to see herself through Moira’s eyes. She was a witch with ruffled clothing (she was pretty sure there were a couple of old coffee stains on her skinny jeans) and messy blonde hair from sleeping on the plane. Next to Moira’s elegance and Oliver's perfect self, Felicity felt extremely out of place. And because of that, she felt incredibly anxious. Her hands were tingling, and she quickly pulled at the hem of my jacket, glad to see that there was no sign of magic at her fingertips. She hoped that there was also no sign of that phantom ‘shimmering’ that Oliver had mentioned.

“Thank you for having me in your home,” the witch said, her voice hesitant.

Some magic must have been radiating off her, because Moira’s nostrils flared delicately. “I don’t like the way witches smell,” she commented lowly. Her English was flawless, her dark, glittering eyes fixed on Felicity’s. “She smells sweet and repulsively green. Like the beginning of spring.”

Oliver’s grip on Felicity’s hand titled and he uttered a ferocious growl, launching into an unintelligible mix of French, Spanish, and Latin. She couldn’t understand barely a thing he was saying because he was speaking so fast, but there was no disguising the anger in the vampire’s voice.

“ _Ça suffit_ ,” Moira retorted, her eyes ablaze. They strayed over Felicity’s shoulders and throat and the witch swallowed hard, reflexively reaching to adjust the collar of her jacket. “Felicity…” She extended one white, cold hand, and Felicity carefully took her fingers lightly in her own. Oliver refused to release her other hand and actually stepped closer to the witch with a stony, warning look towards his mother, watching her cautiously. “ _Encantada._ ”

Felicity stared back.

“She's pleased to meet you,” Oliver translated.

Moira scoffed, releasing Felicity’s hand. “Of course, she speaks only English and new French.  
Modern warmbloods are so poorly educated.”

“Felicity is well educated in other areas other than languages, _Maman_ ,” Oliver defended her, sounding insulted on the witch’s behalf. “She’s a historian.”

Moira shot him a sharp look. “Of?”

“Alchemy,” Felicity answered.

The female vampire tilted her head, as if the witch had finally piqued her interest. “You’re an alchemist?”

“She studies the history of it,” Oliver said. “The physical practice of alchemy died out over a century ago.”

“And was placed insufficiently by chemistry, yes, I know,” Moira responded. “Modern science never takes the influences of magic and the Earth lifeforce into account properly, Oliver. Alchemy is definitely the most interesting of all the sciences, however outdated it may be.” She raised an eyebrow at her son. “No offense. I’m sure your biochemistry is fascinating when it’s not peering down microscopes and reading computer data.”

“There’s a lot more to biochemistry than just that,” Oliver grumbled, much to Felicity’s amusement.

Another woman, older than Moira, appeared from the tower staircase, with kind eyes and a mass of dark hair falling to her shoulders. She lit up on seeing Oliver, her arms outstretched. “Oliver, my sweet boy.”

They started talking in rapid-fire French, but then after around ten seconds, switched into Russian. It when then that Felicity realized that this new vampire’s accent was not French, but in fact Russian. Oliver caught the woman in a hug, kissing her on both cheeks. Pulling back, Oliver reached out to take Felicity’s elbow to pull her forwards. The witch staggered and blushed when Moira’s eyes flickered up the ceiling in disbelief.

“Raisa, this is my friend, Felicity,” Oliver introduced her.

“Welcome, Miss Felicity,” Raisa said warmly. She inhaled and turned to the male vampire with an appreciative expression. “ _Elle est une puissante sorcière._ ”

Oliver chuckled, his chest pressed to Felicity’s back and his hands on her waist. “She says you're a powerful witch,” he explained.

His closeness somewhat diminished Felicity’s instinctive concern with having a strange vampire sniff her, but having no idea what the proper French response was to such a comment, she just smiled weakly at Raisa, hoping that would do.

“You're exhausted,” Oliver observed, his eyes flicking over her face. “Come on, it’s been a long journey. You might have slept on the plane and in the car a little, but you definitely need a couple more hours of rest.”

“I will make up her room,” Raisa said, hurrying away.

“There’s no need, I’ll do it,” Oliver called. “She’ll be staying in my tower.”

If possible, Moira looked even more furious. She bit out something in French that did not sound very friendly, and in response, Oliver’s expression grew thunderous and he snapped back at her. After a good minute of arguing, which Felicity only got severely confused trying to understand and keep up with, they finished. Oliver wheeled around to turn his back on his mother and placed his hands on the witch’s shoulder, rubbing his thumbs over her collarbones lightly.

“Let's go and get you settled,” he suggested, his voice shockingly mild after the major disagreement he and his mother just had.

“I will bring up some wine,” Raisa offered.

“Thank you,” Felicity said.

“And water,” Oliver added. “Oh, and I ordered food to be delivered. It should have arrived this morning.”

“Yes, it did,” his mother said tartly. “Raisa had to go and collect it from the market.”

The male vampire rolled his eyes at Moira’s haughtiness. “Felicity needs to eat, _Maman_. I can’t imagine you had a great deal of proper food in the house.”

“I need fresh blood, but I don't expect Raisa to fetch it from Paris in the middle of the night.”

Felicity swallowed, her knees swaying beneath her. She didn’t know whether or not that was a threat, but it certainly wasn’t a pleasant comment. Oliver exhaled sharply and steadied her. He asked silently with a concerned glance if she was all right. When she shot him a pleading, tired gaze in response, his worry only increased.

“Raisa,” he asked, pointedly ignoring his mother, “Can you please bring up eggs, toast and some tea for Felicity? She hasn’t eaten yet today and she’s hungry.”

Raisa eyed Moira and then Oliver as if she were at center court at Wimbledon. She cackled with laughter. “ _Da_ , Mister Oliver, of course,” she replied, with a cheerful nod.

“I told Raisa about your tree nut allergy,” he informed Felicity with a reassuring look.

She blinked. She’d completely forgotten about warning the vampire about that. She wondered if Oliver had packed an EpiPen for her, considering she usually packed one in with her toiletries, but he’d gathered them up for her. “You know about my allergy?”

“I had to do some research to make sure you didn’t have any allergies when you came over for dinner,” he told her with a warm smile. “Your allergy is listed on your New College profile for the university. It’s a good thing I did research you - I was going to serve roasted chestnuts for dessert.”

“I should have told you. I’m sorry. It completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s all right. No harm was done. I did pack an Epipen for you, by the way. Several, in fact.” He cast a glance over to the other two vampires. “We should head up to my tower. We'll see you two at dinner,” Oliver said calmly.

Felicity resisted the urge to flinch as she felt four icy patches on her shoulders as the women watched them depart out of the hallway. Behind them, Raisa said something to Moira that made her snort, and Oliver laugh and smile broadly. It was only once they’d passed through a doorway into a longer stone corridor, and Felicity thought that they might perhaps be far away enough from the vampires that they wouldn’t be overheard, that she let her curiosity take over.

“What did Raisa say?”

“She said we looked good together,” Oliver replied, grinning.

Felicity’s cheeked reddened at that, but she shook her head, pushing on to a more pressing matter. “Your mother doesn’t like me and she doesn’t want me here. I don't want Moira to be angry with me the whole time we're staying.”

“Pay no attention to her,” Oliver said. “Her bark is worse than her bite. It’s been a long time since anybody except family has visited Sept-Tours, but she’ll soon get used to you.”

He led the way to a large curving staircase, passing by a couple of rooms. A pair of open doors revealed a large atrium lined with bookcases. Felicity stopped in place. “Is that a library?” she asked, Moira's hostility towards her momentarily forgotten as exhilaration at the thought of reading the manuscript Oliver had told her about took over.

“Is it,” the vampire confirmed, his hand on her back urging her forward.

“Can I see your copy of _Aurora Consurgens_ now?”

“You can see it later, once you’ve rested.” They reached the bottom of the staircase, where he paused and frowned. “It's a long climb, and you're tired. Do you need me to carry you?”

“No,” Felicity replied instantly, indignant. “I’m not going to let you sling me over your shoulder like a victorious medieval knight making off with the spoils of battle.”

Oliver pressed his lips together, eyes dancing.

“Don't you dare laugh at me,” she warned.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

They started up the staircase, Felicity determined and Oliver patient. By the fifteenth stair, Felicity’s sides were heaving with effort and her lungs were aching. The tower's worn stone steps were not made for ordinary feet and legs and had clearly been designed for vampires like Oliver who were either over six feet tall, extremely agile, or both. His hand settled on the small of her back in support, but Felicity refused to give up and let him carry her, so gritted her teeth and kept climbing. Around a final bend in the stairs, a room opened up suddenly.

Felicity didn't have to be told whose room this was. It was Oliver's, through and through.  
They were in one of the château's tallest towers, set on the back of the massive main building. Tall, narrow windows punctuated the walls, their leaded panes letting in slashes of light and autumn colors from the fields and trees outside. The room was circular, and high bookcases smoothed its graceful curves into occasional straight lines. A large fireplace was set squarely into the walls that butted up against the château's central structure. A broadsword so long and heavy that no one but a vampire could have wielded it hung over the fireplace, and an Oliver sized suit of armor stood in one corner. On the table next to it was a set of modern scientific equipment, with microscopes, a centrifuge, and some electrophoresis trays. There were armchairs and couches, tables and hassocks, most in shades of green, brown, and gold. Despite the size of the room and the expanses of gray stone, the overall effect was of cozy warmth.

Oliver's snowflakes drifted across Felicity’s face as he watched her survey his belongings. “You know, there are thirty more steps to climb.”

Felicity exhaled tiredly but still didn’t let him carry her. The vampire led her to the other side of the room and a second staircase. Thirty slow steps later, she stood on the edge of another round room dominated by an enormous walnut four-poster bed complete with heavy hangings. A table was pushed against one wall, a fireplace was tucked into another, and a few comfortable chairs were arranged around it. Opposite, a door stood ajar, revealing an enormous bathroom.

Walking over to the window, Felicity peered out over the landscape beyond. She couldn’t help but think about how Oliver had been looking out at this view since the Middle Ages. Her brow furrowed as she wondered, briefly, about whether or not the vampire had ever brought other women here before her. She was sure she wasn't the first, but she didn't think there had been many.

She almost jumped when Oliver came up behind her, pressing a gentle kiss against her side of her head. “Are you okay?” His breath was soft against her ear.

Felicity nodded, amazed. “How long has this tower been here?”

“About seven hundred years.”

“And the village?” She could see the little town just beyond the forest several miles away, indicating how tall the tower actually was. “Do they know about you?”

“Yes. Like witches, vampires are safer when they're part of a community who knows what they are, but doesn't ask too many questions. We offer them our protection when they need it, and in return, they let us live here in peace.”

“Thank you for bringing me to Sept-Tours,” Felicity said quietly, turning around to hug him. “It does feel safer than Oxford.”

Oliver chuckled into her shoulder, the sound causing a vibration that made her shiver. “Thank you for braving my mother. She's… overprotective, like most parents.”

“I felt like an idiot, Oliver,” she said bluntly. She bit her lip, forehead creasing. “And underdressed, too. I didn't bring a single thing to wear that will meet her approval.”

“Felicity, Coco Chanel didn't meet Moira’s approval. You might be aiming a bit high.”

Felicity laughed and turned in his arms, her eyes seeking his. When they met, the witch’s breath caught. Oliver’s hands tightened on her waist, and one arm slowly winded around her back. His gaze lingered on her eyes, cheeks, and finally, her mouth.

“ _Dieu_ , you're so alive,” he said gruffly. “You deserve a man much, much younger than me.”

“You think I care about your age?” she whispered.

“You should,” he sighed.

“I care about _you_.”

Felicity lifted up onto her tiptoes, at the same Oliver bent his head. Before their lips could touch, however, a tray clattered on the table in front of the fireplace, causing them both to jump.

“‘ _Vos etz arbres e branca_ ,’” Raisa sang with a wicked look.

Oliver laughed. “‘ _On fruitz de gaug s'asazona_ ,’” he replied, not singing but with a lilt to his voice like he was reading poetry.

“What language is that?” Felicity asked curiously, drawing away from Oliver and following him over to the chairs.

“The old tongue,” Raisa responded.

“Occitan.” Oliver removed the silver cover from the platter, revealing toast with scrambled eggs. “Come and sit down to eat, Felicity. Your stomach’s been rumbling since we got here. Raisa’s been complaining.”

Raisa swatted at Oliver's wrist with a tea towel that she pulled from her waist, before pouring him a glass of wine from a tall, silver-handled glass pitcher.

“ _Merces_ ,” he murmured, his nose going immediately to the glass in anticipation.

Felicity took her her seat next to him, and gratefully took and sipped at the glass of ice-cold water Raisa handed over to her. The female vampire then poured a steaming cup of chamomile tea - a hot drink which Felicity sometimes used to help calm her anxiety enough to get to sleep. It wasn’t coffee, but it was still good. Apparently Oliver had been raiding her cupboards, because it was tea of her specific, favorite brand. Raisa pushed the plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

“ _Merci_ , Raisa.”

“Eat!” she commanded.  
.  
Felicity did so, and Raisa looked satisfied with the enthusiasm of her first few bites. She was certainly a lot hungrier than she wanted to admit. But then Raisa sniffed the air, frowned and directed an exclamation of disgust at Oliver before striding to the fireplace. A match snapped, and the dry wood began to crackle.

“Raisa, I can do that,” Oliver protested, standing up with his wineglass. 

“Miss Felicity is cold,” Raisa grumbled, clearly aggravated that he hadn't noticed this before he sat down. “And you are thirsty. I will make the fire.” Within minutes, there was a fearsome blaze. Though no fire would make the enormous room toasty, it took the chill from the air. Satisfied, Raisa brushed her hands together and stood. “She needs to sleep. I can smell she has been afraid.”

“She'll sleep when she's finished eating,” Oliver promised.

Raisa looked at him suspiciously for a long moment and shook her finger at him as though he were fifteen, and not fifteen hundred, years old. Finally, his innocent expression seemed to convince her and she took her leave.

“Occitan is the language of the troubadours, isn't it?” Felicity asked, after the female vampire had departed. Oliver dipped his head in a nod. “Lyric poets and composers of southern France, northern Spain, and northern Italy, from the Middle Ages. I didn't realize it was ever spoken this far north.”

“We're not that far north,” Oliver said with a smile.

“What did her song mean?”

“‘You are the tree and branch,’” he told her, fixing his eyes on the slashes of countryside visible through the nearest window. “And then I replied with ‘where delight's fruit ripens.’ But I don’t sing.” He chuckled under his breath. “Raisa will hum the song all afternoon. It will drive my mother crazy.”

Felicity shot him an alarmed look. “She won’t hurt Raisa, will she?”

“Oh, no! She might growl at her, but she won’t lay a finger on her,” Oliver reassured. “Raisa has been serving the De Reine family for centuries, and is my mother’s closest friend and confidant. Besides - Raisa can fend for herself. She was born in Russia during a time when all girls and women were taught to fight - I’m almost certain she tangled with a Siberian tiger at some point.”

Felicity continued to eat as the fire spread its warmth through the room. The heat made her drowsy, and by the time her plate was clear of toast and eggs, it was difficult for her to keep her eyes open. The witch was in the middle of a jaw-splitting yawn when Oliver drew her from the chair. He scooped her up bridal-style, her feet swinging in midair. Felicity immediately started to protest, having to wrap her arms around his neck as she was scared of falling, even though she knew there was no chance the vampire would drop her.

“You can barely sit up straight, never mind walk,” Oliver cut her off. “You wouldn’t let me carry you up the stairs. Let me carry you to bed or tomorrow, I’m going to carry you everywhere.”

“Fine,” she groaned.

He placed Felicity tenderly on the end of the bed, yanking the covers back. The sheets looked so crisp and inviting. Felicity dropped her head onto the mountain of down pillows arranged against the bed's intricate walnut carvings, sighing in delight.

Oliver took the bed's curtains in both hands and gave them a yank, pulling and pinning them back. “Sleep, okay?”

“I'm not sure I'll be able to,” Felicity replied, stifling another yawn. “I'm not good at napping.”

“Now that, I know is a lie,” he laughed.

“You must be tired too,” she mused. 

“Vampires don’t sleep often. Not as much as you warmbloods do, anyway.” Oliver stroked his hand over her side gently. “I'll be downstairs in the study. Call if you need anything. I’ll hear.”

“You will?”

Oliver leaned over to drop a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always hear you.”


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is an unusual chapter as it includes both Felicity AND Oliver's POVs. That's because originally this was going to be two chapters, but I decide to post them as one long chapter.
> 
> And the reason for that... is that I'm unfortunately going to have to go on updating hiatus until February. I have a lot going on in my life and studies right now that I need to focus on and that takes precedence, I'm sorry.
> 
> (Oliver's POV section was originally written and posted as a Bishmont fic but I decided to adapt it for this fic as well, due to how well it fits in.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you all for your support. See you in February!

Felicity woke up to the rustle of turning pages and sat bolt upright, glancing around frantically and panicking when she didn’t initially recognize the room. But then she remembered. She was in France with Oliver - at his home. She was blearily rubbing at her eyes when the vampire appeared above her, gazing down at her with a smile.

“How long did I sleep for?” she asked.

“A good several hours. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. For someone who doesn't nap, you slept well,” he said with satisfaction. “Raisa will probably be here any minute with some coffee for you. Do you want to shower and change?”

The thought of a hot shower to soothe her aching muscles had the witch eagerly pushing back the covers. “Yes, please!”

Oliver helped her to the floor with his hands on her waist, as the bed was much higher than she’d expected. It was cold, the stone flagstones stinging against Felicity’s bare feet; she jumped a little at the feeling so that the vampire had to catch her before she fell over.

“I put your bag in the bathroom, your laptop is downstairs in my study, and there are fresh towels. Take your time. The hot water shouldn’t run out.”

The bathroom was huge, almost bigger than her own bedroom in her New College rooms. An enormous white, freestanding tub was tucked between two of the windows, and a long wooden bench held her worn Yale duffel. In the far corner, a showerhead was set into the wall in an open floor shower. Felicity started running the water, expecting to wait a long time for it to heat up. Miraculously, the water was hot almost immediately. The honey and nectarine scent of her body wash helped to lift the tension of the past twenty-four hours.

Once her muscles were unkinked, Felicity slipped on black leggings, a t-shirt and Oliver’s Henley she’d kept after he’d lent it to her when she was cold. She’d been lazing around in it recently. The frigid floors prompted her to pull a pair of socks on too.

Felicity emerged from the bathroom roughly toweling her hair and dragging a brush through it, spotting Oliver pouring freshly brewed coffee out of a press into a cup for her on the table. He looked up as she entered and his eyes roamed over her shoulders and torso, jaw tightening.

“Is that my Henley?” he questioned lowly.

“Yeah, it’s mine now,” she shrugged, sitting down to take a long swig of the coffee. She sighed in relief, not realizing how much she’d missed its bitterness until now. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I probably don’t mind enough,” the vampire answered, his voice strained. She could feel his cold gaze flicking down her body, before he turned away with slightly red cheeks. “You might want to change out of that before we leave the tower. I don’t know how my mother will react.”

Growing nervous at the concept of Moira’s piercing eyes and potentially disgusted expression when seeing a witch wearing her son’s clothes, Felicity swallowed and nodded. “Good idea. So when can I see the _Aurora_ manuscript?”

“What is it with your obsession with this manuscript? I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody so enthusiastic to read an old book.” Oliver shook his head, amused. “I’ll show you the _Aurora_ once I'm sure you won't get lost on your way to the library. Ready for the grand tour?”

“Of course! Give me a second.” She yanked on sneakers over her socks and ran back into the bathroom to switch the vampire’s Henley for a sweater, thinking that they might run into Moira on their adventure around Sept-Tours. “Okay, I’m ready.”

They headed down the staircase together, Oliver first and Felicity following after him. The vampire slipped down the stairs as if he could handle the uneven, smooth treads blindfolded, while she was forced to take more measured steps. At least if she fell downwards, Oliver would be there to break her fall. When they reached his study, Oliver pointed to where her laptop was charging, resting on a table by the window, before they descended to the bottom of the tower.

They walked along the long corridor past a salon they hadn’t seen last night, with a large seating area. Raisa had obviously been there as a fire was crackling in the fireplace, sending the smell of applewood smoke floating out of the room and down the corridor.

“Where should we start?” Oliver mused aloud.

“The library,” Felicity answered immediately, grabbing his arm. “The tour definitely needs to start there.”

“All right, all right,” he chuckled. “Come on, I won’t keep you from your precious manuscript any longer.” 

The library was a vast room that had been filled over the years with bric-a-brac and spare furniture. Despite the mismatches, it was held together by miles of leather-bound books on walnut shelving and by an enormous Aubusson carpet in soft golds, blues, and browns, with a huge oak table in the center surrounded by armchairs.

As in most old libraries, the books appeared to have been shelved by size; there were thick manuscripts in leather bindings, shelved with spines in and ornamental clasps out, the titles inked onto the fore edges of the vellum. There were tiny incunabula and pocket-sized books in neat rows on one bookcase, spanning the history of print from the 1450s to the present. A number of rare modern first editions, including a run of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories and T. H. White's The Sword in the Stone, were there too. One case held nothing but botanical books, atlases and medical books, which looked well-worn.

Felicity circled the room, examining most of the books and running her fingers delicately over the bottom of the shelves, nervous that if she actually touched the books’ spines, they could fall apart. Snowflakes trailed over her shoulders and the back of her head, indicating that Oliver was watching her movements. He was leaning against the oak table with his ankles crossed, a small smile on his face.

“There must be hundreds of books here,” she whispered in awe.

“Well, imagine how many books you would have if you'd been collecting them for centuries,” Oliver shrugged. “Things pile up. We've got rid of a lot over the years. We had to, otherwise this room would be the size of the Bibliotheque Nationale.”

Nodding, the witch turned back to face him and demanded, “So where is it?” She wanted to see the _Aurora_ now, before Oliver managed to weasel his way out of it again like he had when they’d first arrived.

"I suppose I should show you it before your patience wears thin and you decide to leave, considering the manuscript is the reason you agreed to come here in the first place.” He traversed over to a particular shelf, his eyes darting among the volumes. Finally, the vampire pulled out a small book with black tooled covers and presented it to the witch.

She took it gingerly, glancing around for a velveteen cradle to put it on.

Noticing, Oliver laughed. “You can just open it, Felicity. It's been well cared for over the centuries, so it’s not going to disintegrate.”

It felt strange to hold such a manuscript in her hands, trained as Felicity was to think of them as rare, precious objects rather than reading material. Trying not to open the covers too wide and crack the binding, she peered inside, squinting. An explosion of bright colors, gold, and silver leaped out. The other copies she’d seen before of _Aurora Consurgens_ hadn’t been so vibrant.

“It's beautiful,” she breathed. “Do you know who did the illuminations?”

“A woman named Bourgot Le Noir. She was quite popular in Paris in the middle of the fourteenth century.” Oliver took the book from her, despite Felicity’s protests, and opened it fully. She almost squawked in horror. “There. Now you can see it properly.”

The first illumination showed a queen standing on a hill, sheltering seven small creatures inside her cloak. Delicate vines framed the image, twisting and turning their way across the vellum. Here and there amongst the foliage, buds burst into flowers, and birds sat on the branches. The queen's embroidered golden dress practically glowed. At the bottom of the page, a man in a black robe sat atop a shield that bore a coat of arms in black and silver. The man's attention was directed at the queen, a rapt expression on his face and his hands raised in supplication. The unfamiliar coat of arms featured a fleur-de-lis, surrounded by a snake with its tail in its mouth.

“Nobody is going to believe this exists. An unknown copy of _Aurora Consurgens_ , with illuminations by a woman?” she said, amazed. “How will I even cite this?”

“I'll loan the manuscript to the Beinecke Library for a year, if that helps. Anonymously, of course. As for Bourgot, the experts will say it's her father's work. But it's all hers. We probably have the receipt for it somewhere,” Oliver said casually. “I'll ask Moira to try and find it. It’s probably in Robert's study somewhere.”

“Robert?”

“My father.” Judging by the sudden dark tone of his voice, his father wasn’t a subject he liked to talk about - and wasn’t planning on discussing with Felicity at all. Closing the manuscript gently, the vampire placed it down on a nearby table. “I'll take this up to my study later so you can properly read it. Moira likes to sit in here in the evenings sometimes, but otherwise, it’s always empty. You're welcome to browse the shelves whenever you like.”

Planning on taking advantage of that, Felicity trailed behind Oliver out into the great hall, listening carefully as he pointed out features of the room, including the old minstrels' gallery, the trapdoor in the roof that had let the smoke out before the fireplaces and chimneys were constructed, and the arch of the square watchtower overlooking the main entrance to the château. They then descended to the lower ground floor, with its maze of store-rooms, wine cellars, kitchens, servants' rooms, larders, and pantries.

“Vampires don't eat anything,” Felicity said, confused.

“No, but our tenants used to. Raisa loves to cook. She’s delighted you’re here; she finally gets to make use of the kitchens again.”

Their next stop was the gardens, which were straight out of the sixteenth century, with divided beds full of herbs and autumn vegetables. Rose bushes, some with a few lonely white blooms remaining, filled the borders. But there was a distinct, non-floral aroma in the air that interested her. Pulling away from Oliver, Felicity headed towards a low-slung building, which as she approached, she realized was a set of stables.

Two dogs were lying down napping by the fence, and they jumped up as she entered the paddock, rushing towards her. One of them was a stunning beagle hound mix with tan fur, a black mantle, and white on his chest, and the other a strong black German Shepherd with white socks on his paws. They wound around Felicity’s feet, sniffing at her with their tails wagging.

Walking up to the first stable, she took an astonished step back when an enormous, 17-hand dappled gray Percheron poked his head over the door, snorting. The horse nickered happily when she began stroking over his dense mane.

“Be careful, Felicity!” Oliver called out worriedly, striding across the gravel. “Constantine bites.”

“Which one is Constantine?” she asked, wheeling around to face him. The heavy-footed horse began rubbing his head up and down her back, whinnying for her attention again, as the dogs whined and waited for their turn to be fussed over.

The vampire rounded the stable entrance, an anxious look on his face. “The stallion currently using your spine as a scratching post.”

“He won't bite me, he’s a sweetheart,” Felicity dismissed. The Percheron maneuvered his head so he could rub his ears on her hip. Leaning down, the witch ruffled the fur on the beagle mix’s neck while the German Shepherd nudged at her knees. “Who are these gentlemen?”

"The beagle hound mix is Charlie, and the shepherd is Pitch.” Oliver snapped his fingers, and both dogs sprinted to his side, where they sat obediently and watched his face for further instructions. “Please step away from that horse.”

“Why? He's fine.” Constantine stamped the ground in agreement and cocked an ear back to look haughtily at Oliver.

“Constantine is only fine until he gets bored,” the vampire warned. “I'd like you to move away before he kicks the stall door down. ‘If the butterfly wings its way to the sweet light that attracts it, it's only because it doesn't know that the fire can consume it.’”

Felicity huffed and dropped a kiss down on Constantine’s nose. “We're making your master nervous, and he's started reciting obscure bits of poetry written by mad Italian clerics.” Giving him one last pat, she promised, “I'll be back tomorrow with something sweet for you.” The horse nickered, his hooves dancing with impatience.

When she turned back towards Oliver, Felicity could see through his impassive expression that she’d surprised him. “You recognized that passage?”

“Giordano Bruno,” she nodded. “‘If the thirsty stag runs to the brook, it's only because he isn't aware of the cruel bow. If the unicorn runs to its chaste nest, it's only because he doesn't see the noose prepared for him.’”

“You know the work of the Nolan?” Oliver asked, using the sixteenth-century mystic's own way of referring to himself.

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. Had Oliver known Bruno as well as Machiavelli, as he’d implied? The vampire seemed to have been attracted to every strange character who'd ever lived. “He was an early supporter of Copernicus, and I'm a historian of science. How do you know Bruno's work?”

“I read a lot,” he said evasively.

“You knew him!” she accused. “Was he a vampire?”

“No, a daemon. One who danced along the madness-genius divide rather too frequently.”

“I should have known,” Felicity muttered. “He believed in extraterrestrial life and cursed his inquisitors on the way to the stake.”

“Nevertheless, he understood the power of desire.”

“‘Desire urges me on, as fear bridles me’,” Felicity recited, shooting him a sharp look. “Did Bruno feature in your essay for All Souls?”

“A little. Will you please come away from that horse? He’s about to start kicking his stall door again. We can talk about philosophy another time. I’ll show you the other horses.”

Rolling her eyes, Felicity stepped away from the stall. “I don’t know why you think he’s dangerous. He might be willful and restless but he’s just a horse. I’d be able to ride him just fine.” Both the alchemical manuscript and the Italian philosopher vanished from her mind at the thought of such a challenge.

Oliver blinked, surprised. “You ride?”

“I grew up in the country and have ridden since I was a kid. Mostly cross-country and showjumping. I’m sure I could handle Constantine without being thrown.”

“We have other horses you can ride. Constantine stays where he is,” the vampire said firmly.

He led her to the other end of the stables, where four more incredible horses waited. Two of them were large, although not as big as Constantine; one of them was a handsome cherry bay stallion and the other a fairly round chestnut mare. There were a pair of Andalusians as well, one silver buckskin and one blanket appaloosa, with large feet and curved necks. The silver buckskin horse came to the door to see what was going on in his domain.

“This is Sahim,” Oliver introduced, gently rubbing his muzzle. “His name means 'arrow.' He moves beautifully, but he’s headstrong.” He shot her a teasing look. “You two should get along.”

Refusing to take the bait, though it was charmingly offered, Felicity let Sahim sniff at her hair and face. “What's the other one’s name?”

“Nadra - ‘radiance’.” Nadra trotted forward when Oliver said her name, her dark eyes affectionate. “Nadra is Moira's horse, and Sahim is her brother.” The vampire pointed to the other two horses, the cherry bay stallion and the chestnut mare. “Those are mine. Sayad’s the stallion, Humayra is the mare.”

“What do their names mean?” Felicity asked, walking to their stalls.

“Sayad means 'hunter’, and Humarya means ‘red’. Sayad loves riding across the fields chasing game and jumping hedges. Humarya is more patient and steady,” he explained.

“Can we ride later this afternoon?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “I need to finish your tour and then we’re having dinner with my mother tonight.”

Anxiety immediately swamped over her. Sending Felicity’s unease, Sahim nudged at her shoulder with his nose worriedly. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but dining with Moira was the last thing she wanted to do, especially when she knew the vampire already didn’t like her. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“She invited us both,” Oliver told her. “Would you like me to tell her you’re too tired this evening? I’m sure she won’t mind.”

She exhaled in relief. “Please.”

They continued the tour, Oliver telling her about the surrounding mountains and orienting her to the town. He showed Felicity where the château had been modified and how restorers had used a different kind of stone because the original was no longer available. By the time the tour was completed, she finally felt like she wasn't likely to get lost, mostly due to the central castle, which was hard to misplace. It was getting dark they returned to Oliver’s tower, indicating how many hours they’d spent exploring the grounds together. Felicity couldn’t stop yawning.

“Why am I so tired?” she muttered, jaw cracking as she yawned once again. Barely four hours out of bed and she was already feeling entirely worn out.

“Do you really need me to recount the events of the past seventy-two hours?” Oliver said, exasperated. “Of course you’re going to be exhausted. You need to rest, Felicity. I’ll ask Raisa to bring some food up for you and then you can sleep.”

While the vampire headed downstairs, leaving Felicity alone in the tower, she changed back into Oliver’s Henley as it really was much warmer and more comfortable than the sweater she was wearing. When he returned, it was with Raisa by his side, and she was carrying a tray with soup and sandwiches. The tomato and basil soup was hot and filling, and the sandwiches complimented it nicely. Raisa stoked the fire while she ate, talking with Oliver in Russian.

“Your mother isn’t expecting us for dinner, is she?” Felicity asked nervously, finishing off her meal with a glass of water.

“No,” Oliver reassured. “I ran into her when I was meeting with Raisa and she agreed that we should dine together tomorrow night instead. She recognizes how stressful the last couple of days have been for you.”

It was only seven in the evening by the time Felicity clambered into bed, but Oliver promised to wake her early in the morning so they could go riding, and so she didn’t oversleep. She was pretty sick of being unconscious at this point, despite how exhausted she constantly felt. Felicity did, however, finally feel like she was recovering from the huge loss of energy she'd experienced after her witchwind. Oliver didn’t sit or lie down with her until she fell asleep this time, instead going to the lower floor in the tower to work in his study. Her last view before slipping into the darkness of slumber was the vampire casting a troubled glance towards her from the doorway.

_She was riding atop a beautiful white mare bareback through a dark forest, trees whipping past and twigs and leaves snapping at the horse’s side and her heels. Panic flitted through her. Dogs bayed and hooves crashed in the underneath behind her, accompanied by the faint sound of angered shouting._

_“Faster,” Felicity urged the horse._

_The white mare threw herself at an even greater speed over the bushes, her mane and tail streaming out behind her. Felicity’s heart was beating at such a rapid rate that her chest was pained. Her agitation was overwhelming, making her brain hurt as she tried to process the ominous noises of her pursuers, who were close behind her._

_An arrow whizzed past her ear._

_“Fly!” she commanded the mare._

_The mare leaped from the ground, soaring over a fallen tree in such a way that for a moment, Felicity felt suspended in mid-air. Freezing cold gazes knifed into the witch’s back. Looks that felt that punches to her torso struck her every so often. She was being chased by vampires and witches._

_“Faster! Faster!” she urged._

_Tossing her head back, the horse tried to increase her pace, but she was already galloping at maximum speed. Felicity could feel her sides heaving between her legs. Exhausted, the mare started to slow down, panting too hard to breathe properly. Behind them, the furiously snarling dogs and creatures riding their own horses approached. They were going to be caught._

_A large black stallion burst out of the thickets - Oliver astride him. The vampire’s blue eyes shone like moonbeams and his hair was wild. He was being chased as well, but his black horse appeared much more agile and robust than hers. He reached a hand down to her. “Climb on.”_

_Felicity made the transfer from her white mare to the stallion, sliding behind Oliver and wrapping her arms around his waist. He was also riding his horse bareback, his hands woven into the stallion’s black mane instead of reins. As soon as she was stable, Oliver kicked the stallion into a canter and then a gallop. The white mare vanished behind them, heading off to hide in the vegetation._

_The time they’d wasted, however, was costing them dearly. The growling dogs and yelling from the creatures could be heard almost directly behind them. More arrows shot past them, one of them grazing the stallion’s flank, but he just bellowed in pain and continued racing through the forest._

_There was a sharp flash of light._

_Suddenly, it wasn’t Felicity and Oliver on the black horse anymore. It was Donna Smoak and Noah Kuttler. The forest had transformed into a lush Nigerian plain, and the horse had changed from black in color to bay. Noah was looking behind him frantically, trying to urge the horse on faster._

_Felicity was in her mother’s body and place, feeling her fear and anguish in terror. But alongside that, there was knowledge, and acceptance. Acceptance that this was the end of the road - that as soon as their pursuers caught up with them… they would be dead._

_Felicity glanced behind through Donna Smoak’s eyes, and saw Malcolm Merlyn barely ten feet behind them astride his own horse, eyes burning with hatred. He extended his hand towards them and shouted out a curse. A bolt of lightning shot from his outstretched palm and struck the horse beneath them, sending them tumbling to the ground in agony._

_When Felicity blearily looked back up, Merlyn was standing over her, mouth mouthing as he whispered a silent spell. Her body contorted, pain slicing through her._

_She screamed._

* * *

Oliver waited until Felicity’s heart rate had slowed enough to indicate she was deeply asleep before exiting his study, traipsing down the tower staircase out back into the main keep of Sept-Tours. He had work to do and phone calls to make, and he didn’t want to risk Felicity waking up and overhearing. He still had his senses tuned to her so he could be able to hear her even on the other side of the castle.

He headed towards his father’s office. It would provide a quiet, calm space and the strong scent of Robert, mixed with his mother’s, would hopefully get the alluring smell of Felicity out of his nose. Despite feeding only at the weekend, being around the witch was making his blood thirst much harder to control. Oliver would take whatever break he could when it come to getting away from Felicity’s scent. While he loved spending time with her, he didn’t want his craving for her to overshadow his feelings - even though he was still in denial.

Upon reaching the study, he turned the doorknob only to find it was locked. He frowned, and twisted the knob again, thinking the fixing might just be stiff. But the door barely moved within the frame.

“I don't want that room open while she's here.”

Oliver turned to find Moira staring at him from the open corridor. “I have some work to do,” he said quietly. “I'd like to use Robert's office. Maman, I need the key.” Moira raised her chin slightly in defiance, which prompted him to sigh. “I don't want to fight.”

“I'm not fighting,” she snapped at him.

He narrowed his eyes at his mother. He knew exactly what she was thinking about and why. “Felicity didn't kill Robert.”

Moira’s gaze grew thunderous. “Does she know? Did you tell her?”

“No, and I won’t,” Oliver replied simply. “It’s not my story to tell. For now, Felicity only knows that you dislike her. She might suspect that you dislike witches. She’s not aware why and she won’t be, unless you decide to tell her.”

Moira appeared uncertain, but reluctantly revealed a rusty old key for the office, handing it over. “Felicity might not have killed your father, but her kind did,” she said quietly. “Nobody else.”

She swept out of the corridor, disappearing like a shadow into sunlight. Swallowing, Oliver opened up the office and stepped inside. It had barely changed since he’d last been in here - bookcase cabinets lined the walls, filled with de Reine memoires, with old hunting scene paintings decorating the cobblestone walls. The mahogany desk and its accompanying chair had piles of old account papers on top of them and the candle stubs had been burnt down. The air was stale but Oliver could detect both his mother’s and Raisa’s scents within the room. His father’s scent was no longer detectable.

Clearing the chair, he brushed off the gathered dust before sitting down and pulling out his phone. After some debating, he chose who to call.

“Oliver,” Dinah greeted him shortly down the line.

“Dinah,” he acknowledged. “How’s Oxford?”

She began answering questions he hadn’t even asked yet. “Merlyn isn’t aware Felicity is out of the country, although we think he is searching for her. Roy and I moved into the gatehouse at the Old Lodge and made sure a trail with Felicity’s scent was left behind from New College to Woodstock. A couple of the witches from Shado’s yoga group informed us that they’ve been approached for information by Merlyn and they informed him that she’s been at the Lodge recently; they weren’t exactly lying, she was there just last week. There don’t seem to be any creatures suspecting you took Felicity to France - at least, not yet. Everything seems to have quietened down for now. How’s Sept-Tours?”

“Fine. It’s going to take a while for my mother and Raisa to get used to a witch living within the castle walls.”

“I can imagine it must be quite a change. For Moira, Raisa, and Felicity, to be living in a house full of vampires.”

“Felicity is adapting well,” he relayed.

“So Moira hasn’t ripped her head off yet?”

“Nor do I think she plans to.”

“Roy owes me twenty pounds then,” Dinah said, satisfied.

“You had a bet about whether or not my mother would attempt to kill Felicity?” he asked disbelievingly, some anger seeping through into his voice. 

Dinah switched the subject tactfully. “Have you told Felicity about her DNA results yet?”

“No.” Oliver wilted. “I was planning to tell her tomorrow. I presume you repeated the tests?”

“Twice. Same results. Roy’s working on another set right now, experimenting by using a different electrophoresis buffer. He’s been acting as my lab assistant, mostly due to the fact that he wants his own blood analyzed quickly so can find out why his siring attempt with Jason failed.”

“Any news with that?” he asked.

“I ran his bloods and have the results, but I told him I need a second opinion from you.”

“That’s not true. You’re stalling?”

“Roy has some of the markers we’ve seen before in cases of failed sirings,” the female vampire sighed. “I’ve emailed you copies of the gel x-rays. When you have the time, can you look at them for me?”

“Of course.” He paused. “You want me to tell him?”

“I think he’ll take it better from his father.”

Oliver nodded. “What did you think of Felicity’s results?”

There was a beat of silence, in which Dinah seemed to be considering what to say. “Honestly, they completely confuse me. I had no idea it was possible for a witch to have so many preternatural genetic markers.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted.

“She’s easily the most powerful creature we’ve ever encountered, Oliver. Probably one of the most powerful creatures to have ever existed. And you say she doesn’t even know how to control her magic?”

“No, she doesn’t. Not properly.”

Dinah went quiet on the other end of the line again. “Are you scared?”

“ _Of_ Felicity - no. But for her? Yes.” Oliver ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t even want to imagine what Merlyn and the Congregation would do to Felicity if they found out about her. Witchwind, elemental spells, blue fingers… The fact that other witches killed her parents when she was younger suggests to me that her parents’ bloodlines carry power that the witches were jealous of. Then there’s the entire situation with Ashmole 782…”

“Roy thinks you’re being stupid taking Felicity to Sept-Tours,” Dinah said. “I think you’re being smart. If Felicity is as powerful as the tests indicate but she has no control, and there are witches after her because of the manuscript or her magic, maybe both… there’s no place safer for her than with you and your mother in France.”

Oliver exhaled. “Thank you, Dinah,” he answered sincerely.

“Tell Felicity to give me a call anytime if she wants somebody else to talk to,” was the last thing the female vampire informed him, before hanging up.

Placing his phone down on the desk, Oliver pulled out Felicity’s DNA results from where he’d folded the piece of paper up and tucked it in the back of his jeans. Her full report was upstairs in his briefcase in his study, but he’d kept this summary page with him, as it listed all of the markers that Dinah had been able to identify. Running his eyes down the list, his throat tightened. How was it possible for so much magical power to be bound up within one single witch?

His phone pinged with a text. He pushed the genetic results to the side of the desk and leaned over to check it.

From: Roy Harper - _So… you might want to call Dig :/_

“ _Merde_ ,” Oliver muttered.

What exactly had Roy told Diggle about Felicity and their trip to Sept-Tours? Spinning around in the chair, the vampire swiped up his phone and thumbed through it for a moment, wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to call his best friend when he knew it was likely he was just going to get lectured.

In the end, he just sighed and placed the call. Diggle picked up in under two seconds.

“I tell you to take a step back from Felicity Smoak and what do you do? The exact opposite!” Diggle shouted. “And then I have to hear from your son that you’ve partially mated to this witch and you’ve taken her home to France?!”

“Felicity and I are not mating,” he countered immediately. “And I’m sorry, Dig - things took a turn for the worst concerning the manuscript and Felicity was being threatened by other witches. I had to act fast. I would have called you if I’d had the time. I’m sorry. You were right - I care about Felicity and I can’t let her get hurt. I’m in too deep now and I’m not sure if I want to get out of it.”

“Dammit, Oliver,” the daemon bristled. “You make it so fucking hard to be mad at you, you know that?”

The vampire smiled. “I would let you punch me if you were here.”

“And you’d deserve it.” There was a pregnant pause and then Diggle commented, “Roy told me he had to talk you down from directly attacking the Congregation.”

Oliver sighed. Of course, his son would have snitched on him to Diggle about that. “I wasn’t going to attack the Congregation - I was going to hunt down Merlyn. He’s made it clear that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get his hands on Felicity and the Book of Life, even if that means threatening and manipulating her. Felicity can no longer trust her own people to protect her, which is why she needs me.”

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds like she can protect herself,” Diggle said dryly. “An elemental spell?”

“Roy really needs to learn to keep his mouth shut,” the vampire growled.

“It’s good that she can defend herself, Oliver. That means she’ll be able to fend off Moira when she eventually strikes.”

“Why does everybody think my mother is going to attack Felicity?” He hand tightened around the phone. “She’s not. She promised me. She won’t go back on her word.”

Diggle hummed thoughtfully. “If she swore, then she’ll keep to it. Moira de Reine might be many things, but dishonorable is not one of them. Now, tell me more about the manuscript. Roy mentioned that Felicity tried to recall it, but failed. What happened?”

Oliver was about to respond when his enhanced hearing picked up a faint whimper from the direction of his tower. He froze, switching all of his attention from Diggle over to Felicity.

Seconds later, a pained scream split the air.

He dropped his phone onto the desk with a clatter, ignoring his best friend’s frantic demands to know what was wrong on, and the vampire full-out sprinted from the office back towards his tower. He was running at such speed that he actually cracked some of the stone walls when slamming into them, struggling to get around the corners fast enough.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit he was panicking. Felicity sounded as if she was in agony, and although he couldn’t scent any strangers within Sept-Tours, there was always a possibility that somebody might have broken in. As soon as that thought entered his mind, his anxiety transformed to anger, fear, and guilt; Oliver had promised Felicity she would be safe at his home.

Taking the tower steps five at a time, he was at Felicity’s bedside barely a minute after hearing her initial scream. To his relief, she wasn’t being attacked or harmed. It appeared that she was trapped in some sort of intense nightmare. The witch was trembling all over, her limbs shaking with the effort of flailing as sleep paralysis gripped at her. Oliver could feel his heart clenching as he saw the tortured expression on her face.

“Wake her up, Oliver.”

He turned, tensing when he saw his mother and Raisa framed in the doorway. They were respectfully remaining on the staircase and hadn’t entered the tower, as that would be an invasion of his territory. Moira had been the one speaking to him, her voice unusually soft, although her eyes were as cold as ever.

“She is suffering a _cachavièlha_ ," his mother said. "It would be cruel to let her sleep on.”

Sitting down on the bed beside her, Oliver gently placed his hand on her nearest shoulder, wincing when she flinched at his touch. “Felicity, wake up,” he urged. “You’re just having a nightmare. Whatever you’re seeing is not real. You’re safe and I’m here with you. Wake up!”

The witch jolted upwards so suddenly that all three of the vampires startled, Oliver in particular jerking away slightly. Her breathing short and uneven, Felicity’s hands were like vices as he gripped onto Oliver’s forearms, her eyes wide with alarm and fright. The vampire stared directly back at her, his own hands grasping her elbows securely.

“Oliver?” she breathed. The frantic, haunted look on her face as she glanced desperately around the room told him that Felicity wasn’t sure whether this was real or not. “Merlyn… he was just…” She placed a shaking hand over her heart, as if remembering some past pain.

“He’s not here,” he shook his head. “It’s just you, me, and my mother and Raisa. You’re safe.”

Something in his expression must have reassured her, because Felicity crumpled and threw himself at him, wrapping her arms around Oliver’s neck and burying her head into his shoulder with a broken, relieved sob.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, embracing him to her tightly. “I’ve got you. It was just a bad dream. It wasn’t real.”

“Yes, it was. It was definitely real,” Felicity murmured, voice trembling. “Merlyn was looking for me, chasing me… no matter how far and fast I traveled, he was always there right behind me, ready to strike me down. And then you were there helping me get away but Merlyn was still hunting us.”

Oliver shushed her and stroked over her hair soothingly. He met Moira’s icy eyes and Raisa’s warm, sympathetic ones over the top of the witch’s head. “He can’t get to you here.”

“He got to my parents.” Felicity’s hand fisted his shirt. “They were on the run in Nigeria and the witches got to them there. What makes you think they won’t find me here?” Her breathing was speeding up and she began to hyperventilate, on the edge of a panic attack. Her shaking only intensified. “Oh god, Oliver.”

He shot his mother and their housekeeper a sharp look, silently ordering them to leave. Raisa dipped her head and vanished down the staircase, and after one last narrow-eyed glance between her son and the witch, Moira departed as well. As soon as they were gone, Oliver scooped Felicity off the bed and slipped underneath her, lying down so he could settle her against his chest. Encasing her in his arms, the vampire sighed when her ear rested over his heart and fingers hooked onto his shirt collar. He reached down to tug a blanket over them both, aware that Felicity was still shivering. After a minute or so, the trembling stopped and the witch lay on top of him quietly.

“Merlyn’s looking for me,” she said, sounding dazed. “He’s using a location spell. But you have to use a map and the one he’s working with is only of the UK. But soon he’ll realize that he needs to search further out and then he’ll find me.”

The glazed-over look in Felicity’s blue eyes told Oliver this was not just an educated guess of hers; she was utilizing some kind of witch power. Perhaps she was using seer abilities. “Even if he does discover you are here, he won’t come to find you,” he promised. “You’re safe here.”

Turning, she propped her chin on his sternum. “I’m safe with _you_.”

Oliver stared at the ceiling, swallowing down the suddenly erupting burn at the back of his throat as he heard the witch’s blood begin to hum in her veins due to their proximity. “I don’t deserve your trust,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I ever did to earn it in the first place.”

Felicity leaned up and brushed her lips against his tenderly. His body stiffened and he reminded himself that such relations between a witch and vampire were forbidden, trying to find the inner strength to push her away. But sensing how unresponsive Oliver was beneath her, Felicity pulled away and slid off him, curling up at his side with a sigh.

She was asleep again within seconds.

“You smell like her,” Moira muttered with a disgusted wrinkle of her nose when Oliver eventually forced himself to part from Felicity’s side, heading downstairs to his study where Raisa was stoking the fire and Moira was sitting in the chair beside it. “I can deal with one witch who smells like fresh grass and morning dew, but I will not have my son smelling the same way.”

“Felicity is fine, thank you for asking,” he responded flatly.

His mother looked away dismissively. “I knew she would be fine the moment you woke her up. Nightmares have no lasting effects on witches.”

“I’m not so sure that was a nightmare Felicity was suffering from.” Oliver frowned, cracking open a decade old bottle of wine from the vineyards down the road.

“ _La sorcière est une voyante?_ ” Raisa asked.

“She's a seer?” Moira said sharply, unintentionally translating what their housekeeper had just questioned.

Oliver inclined his head, remembering the genetic report he’d abandoned on Robert’s office desk. “She certainly has the genetic predisposition to be. But Felicity doesn’t use her power - I doubt she knows what she is capable of when it comes to magic.”

His mother stood abruptly and left. Oliver grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up Felicity’s potential psychic abilities when he knew it was a sore spot for Moira. Raisa finished adding firewood to the grate and hurried out after the other female vampire.

He needed to return to his father’s study to fetch his phone and Felicity’s report, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the tower in case she suffered another nightmare or vision, and needed him to comfort her.

Instead, Oliver took his laptop upstairs to work sitting beside the bed, so he could watch over the witch while she slept. She would need clothes and equipment if she was still set on riding when she woke up, so he needed to arrange for early morning drop-offs.

He had no idea what the morning would bring; he wasn’t even sure whether Felicity would remember her nightmare or her actions when he’d woken her up. The idea of her forgetting kissing him caused a twisting sensation in his chest.

As long as Felicity was safe, though, Oliver would be happy.


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayooo we back
> 
> my life is still shit but whatevs this fic is more important haha
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter! thank you for all your support and comments over the hiatus, they've been super motivating and i love you ALL so much xx

When Felicity woke up the next morning, her nightmare was behind her and her first thoughts were of going riding. She couldn’t really remember much from last night - she had the faintest memory of waking up panicked and Oliver coaxing her back to sleep, but it was all hazy and blurred. The vampire was downstairs in the study as a note he’d left her on the bedside table stated, so she decided to get ready before breakfast.

After taking a quick shower and tying her damp hair back into a ponytail, Felicity threw on a pair of tight-fighting black leggings similar to proper riding breeches and some heeled trainers that allow her feet to settle in the stirrups. A cold breeze from outside was sweeping through the rooms from an open window, and anticipating it would be even colder out in the open air, she pulled on a fleece before heading down to the study.

Oliver was reading at the table when she entered, and he raised an eyebrow at her attire. He was wearing dark gray breeches and a black Henley, shockingly casual considering what he usually wore, but he still appeared well-dressed. “Good morning.”

She hugged him from behind, kissing his cheek. “‘Morning.”

“You’re awake early,” he told her, closing his book up and marking his page. Standing, the vampire stretched out slowly like a leopard loosening his muscles. “Planning on going out this morning?”

“Yep. You promised me we could go riding,” she replied, already walking towards the staircase.

His arm barred her from going any further. He’d managed to get in front of her within a mere second. Sometimes she hated vampire speed. “Let's ride in the afternoon instead. You didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I'm fine. Exercise and fresh air will be the best thing in the world for me.” When Felicity tried to get past him again, he stopped her with a stern look. “Oliver. Please?”

His conviction wavered at her begging puppy dog eyes. “If you so much as sway in the saddle, I'm bringing you straight home. No arguments. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“You’re eating breakfast first though. No exceptions.”

They descended the tower together and ate in the housekeeper's rooms, in front of a blazing fire at a table set for two, despite the fact that the witch would be the only one eating Raisa's excellent cooking. A huge pot of coffee was waiting for them on the scarred, round wooden table, wrapped in a linen towel to keep it hot.

When Raisa came over with croissants, toast and scrambled eggs, she glanced at Felicity with concern, tutting at her dark circles and pale skin. She was starving so scarfed down the food within five minutes, pouring herself two mugs of coffee before Oliver pushed a glass of water over to her and withdrew the pot, obviously thinking she’d had enough caffeine for the morning. After Felicity finished eating, Raisa came to collect her empty plate and spoke to Oliver quickly in Russian. He nodded and headed into a side room, only to return a moment later with several boxes.

“For you,” he said, putting them on the table. “I ordered them last night.”

“What’s in them?” she asked curiously.

“Open them and see.”

In the first box was a black riding helmet. Despite its velvet covering and sleek shape, the helmet was sturdy and designed to keep soft human skulls from cracking if they hit the ground. Felicity usually hated them, but it was a wise precaution to wear one when riding a horse she was unfamiliar with.

The next box held a pair of black breeches with suede patches inside the knees to grip the saddle. Oliver must have been making more phone calls and relaying approximate measurements while she slept last night.

There was also a padded vest with a long tail and stiff metal supports sewn into the seams. It looked uncomfortable and unwieldy. Felicity hadn’t worn one since she was a kid, instead preferring to wear thinly padded jerseys for protection. “This really isn't necessary.”

Oliver stared back at her, his expression unyielding and impassive. “It is if you're going riding. Even if you’re experienced, safety should always be taken into account, especially considering the fragility of warmblood skulls.”

She didn’t know whether he was trying to be condescending or not, but Felicity really didn’t appreciate the vampire’s implication that however experienced she was, there was still a high possibility she would be falling off a horse. Her fingertips gave a warning tingle, indicating that they might start sparking at any second. Oliver must have been able to sense her magic playing up because he watched her with interest, but she breathed in and out until the prickling feeling stopped.

“I don’t need to wear a vest,” she said.

Oliver lifted his chin. “You wear a seatbelt in my car - you'll wear a vest on my horse.”

Felicity debated whether or not it would be worth protesting more, but the vampire didn’t seem like he was going to give in anytime soon. She huffed, conceding, “Fine.”

She pulled the final box, which was long and heavy, toward her, noting the sharp tang of leather when the lid lifted. Inside were a pair of knee-length black boots. She’d never owned a proper pair of riding boots before due to how expensive they were, but these were beautiful, with their curved calves and shiny, supple leather.

Turning back towards Oliver, she surprised him with a grateful kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“I had to guess your size, but I'm pretty sure they'll fit,” he replied, his eyes soft. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable wearing proper breeches and boots. We can head out as soon as you change.”

Raisa directed her into the laundry room so she could peel off her leggings and wriggle into the new breeches. Oliver was on his phone when she returned, sending out instructions to all the other people in his world who required his management. He looked Felicity up and down with approval.

“Can you help me put my boots on now?” she asked, sitting down and kicking off her trainers.

“Of course.”

Oliver picked up the chair with the witch still sitting on it and turned it so he had more room to maneuver. He knelt and held out the right boot, and Felicity stuck her foot in as far as the ankle. The boots were incredibly stiff as all boots were before being worn in. After several minutes of struggling, Felicity’s foot finally worked its way into the shank. Oliver gave the sole a final, firm push, and the boot fit snugly over her leg. Once both boots were on, Felicity held her legs out to admire them. Before she could stand, the vampire slid his cold fingers around the top rim to make sure they weren’t too tight and her blood could circulate.

“There we go,” he said, satisfied.

As he stood up, Felicity jumped up and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. He embraced her back as if it was the most natural thing in the world, scenting her hair with a gentle purr. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Felicity grabbed an apple and tucked it into her pocket before they set out for the stables. Oliver insisted upon carrying her vest and hat to the stables, much like how he’d insisted on carrying her bag in Oxford many times. The stable doors were flung open, and Pitch and Charlie raced out to greet them with wagging tails and lolling tongues; Oliver explained how he’d come out here earlier on to tack up the horses and release them into the paddock.

When they passed Constantine’s stall, the huge stallion stomped angrily and tossed his head at the sight of them. He appeared to have remembered how Felicity had promised him an apple yesterday. She pulled it out and offered it to him on her flat palm. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Oliver observed the horse warily as Constantine extended his neck and delicately picked up the fruit from her hand. Once it was in his mouth, he looked at his owner smugly, striking his hooves against the ground.

“Yes, I can see that you are behaving like a prince with Felicity,” Oliver said to him dryly. The vampire was kicking off his shoes and stepping into a tall pair of well-worn boots. His foot slid down easily with a simple stamp on the heel and a tug at the top. “But that doesn't mean you won't behave like a demon as soon as I turn my back.”

In the paddock stretching ahead of them, the silver buckskin Sahim and cherry bay Sayad were waiting for them. Oliver was busy tending to a couple of the other horses, so the witch walked ahead of him. Vaulting over the gate, Felicity approached Sayad and held her palm out to him, sorry that she hadn’t thought to pick up more apples. The stallion looked disappointed, too, once he picked up the sweet scent.

“I’ll bring you an apple next time,” she promised. He nickered, nibbling at the end of her ponytail. Stepping around him, Felicity made her way up to Sahim, who arched his neck with a whinny. “Hello, beautiful.”

Sahim picked up his right front foot and cocked his head at her, ears flicking. Felicity ran her hands over the stallion’s broad neck and shoulders, admiring his silver coat and getting him used to her scent and touch. Giving the saddle a tug, she checked the tightness of the girth strap and made sure the blanket underneath was smooth. Intrigued by what she was doing, Sahim reached around snuffled at her shoulder, nosing at the witch’s fleece where the apple had been. Realizing the pocket was empty, he tossed his head in indignation.

“I’ll bring you an apple next time too,” Felicity laughed.

Sahim snorted. Out of habit and superstition, she’d never ridden a horse without first making sure that nothing was lodged in their hooves, so Felicity began checking each of the stallion’s feet carefully for stones. Although he wasn’t happy about this, Sahim allowed her to lift each of his hooves in turn, shuffling around a little and pulling at her hair with his lips. When Felicity straightened up, she blushed when she saw that Oliver was watching her closely and thoughtfully.

“Do you always do that?” he questioned.

“Check horses over before I ride them? Yes. When I was a kid and just learning to ride, one of the boys in my class didn’t put his horse’s saddle blanket on properly and his horse had a loose shoe. The boy ended up being thrown and needing to go to the hospital, and the horse was badly hurt. I’ve always personally checked my horses over since then.”

Oliver nodded, impressed, and swung over the fence to hold out Felicity’s vest and hat. Although the vest was snug and hard, it wasn't half as bad as she’d expected. She had to slide the elastic band of her ponytail lower to accommodate her helmet before snapping the chin band together. Grabbing Sahim’s reins, she’d just started to lift her foot into the stirrup when Oliver swept up behind her, taking hold of her waist.

“Will you ever wait until I help you?” he growled.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “I can get up onto a horse by myself, Oliver.”

“But you don't need to.”

“But I can,” she pointed out.

“Nobody is saying you can’t. Sahim has a bad habit of moving around when you’re trying to mount him, and I don’t want you to fall off. Let me help please.”

Oliver's hands cupped her shin, lifting the witch effortlessly up into the saddle. While Felicity shifted in her seat to get comfortable, the vampire checked her stirrup length, rechecked the girth strap, and finally went to his own horse. He swung into Sayad’s saddle with a practiced air that suggested he'd been on horseback for hundreds of years. He most likely had.

Sahim started to dance in impatience. Frowning, Felicity pushed her heels down. The horse stopped, confused. “Quiet,” she whispered. Sahim nodded and stilled, his ears working back and forth.

“Take him around the paddock while I check my saddle,” Oliver said casually, fiddling with Sayad’s stirrup leather.

Felicity narrowed her eyes. His stirrups didn’t need adjusting at all. The vampire wanted an excuse to check out her riding skills. Clucking her tongue, the witch walked Sahim halfway around the paddock, to feel his gait. The Andalusian intricately picked up his feet and placed them down firmly in a graceful, rocking movement. Sahim was a seriously fine horse.

When Felicity pressed both heels into his sides, the stallion's delicate walk turned into an equally rollicking, smooth trot. She felt like she was gliding over the ground on his back. They passed by Oliver, who’d given up all pretense of adjusting his saddle and was smiling broadly at her.

 _Beautiful boy_ , Felicity breathed silently, impressed by the horse. 

Sahim’s left ear shot back, and he picked up the pace slightly, tail flicking. The witch tightened her calves and he broke into an elegant, rapid canter, circling the paddock. She eyed the fence, wondering how angry the vampire would be if they attempted to jump it. Very angry, she was sure. Deciding it would be too risky, Felicity slowed Sahim to a trot as they rounded the corner.

Seeing how Oliver was still scrutinizing her, Felicity demanded, “Well? Do I meet your standards?”

“You have a great seat,” he said, eyes drifting down to her backside. The witch tried to hide the reddening of her cheeks. “Good hands, too. You'll be all right. And by the way,” he continued in a conversational tone, leaning toward me and dropping his voice into a dangerous, warning tone, “If you'd jumped the fence back there, today's outing would have immediately been over.”

If possible, her flush deepened. So Oliver had caught her looking towards the fence then. The vampire quirked an eyebrow at her and urged Sayad into a brisk walk towards the gate, where he dismounted briefly to open it up. Felicity followed on Sahim behind, loosening the reins in her hands so that the stallion could stroll freely. 

Once they’d cleared the gardens, the trees thickened into the forest surrounding the castle. Oliver insisted on riding ahead, scanning the foliage suspiciously. A few feet into the woods, he began to relax, assured that none of the creatures within it were of the two-legged variety. The vampire kicked Sayad into a heavy trot, and Sahim obediently waited for Felicity to kick him into one as well. She was amazed all over again at how sleekly he moved.

“What kind of horse is Sayad?” Felicity asked curiously, noticing his equally smooth gait.

“A destrier,” Oliver explained. That was the kind of mount that carried knights to the Crusades. “Breed-wise, he’s a Warlander, a cross between an Andalusian and a Friesian. He was bred for speed and agility.”

“I thought destriers were enormous warhorses. Sayad isn’t that big.” He was bigger than Sahim, but not by much.

“They were large for the time. But they weren't big enough to carry any of the men in the de Reine family into battle, not once we had armor on our backs, and weapons. We trained on Warlanders like Sayad and rode them for pleasure, but we fought on Percherons like Constantine.”

Felicity scratched between Sahim's ears, working up the courage to broach another subject. “Can I ask you something about your mother?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, twisting in his saddle. He looked utterly relaxed with one hand holding his reins and the other resting on his thigh. “Although I can’t say I’ll be able to give you an answer.”

She nodded in understanding. “Why does she hate witches so much? I know vampires and witches are traditional enemies, but it seems that Moira's dislike of me goes beyond that. It seems... personal.”

Oliver offered her a small, uncertain smile. “I suppose you want a better answer than that you smell like spring.”

“Yes, I want the real reason.”

They rode in silence for a couple of minutes, as Oliver apparently needed time to think of what to say. “I can’t tell you everything,” he finally said, patting Sayad’s shoulder. “A lot of it is personal, and she doesn’t wish for you to know. What I can tell you is that she's jealous.”

Felicity blinked, puzzled. “What on earth is she jealous of?”

“Your power - especially a witch's ability to see the future. Your ability to bear children and pass that power to a new generation. And how easily you die, I suppose,” he shrugged.

“Moira had you and Thea for children.”

“That’s true, Moira made both of us into vampires. But it's not quite the same as having children.”

“Why does she envy a witch's second sight?”

Oliver’s face darkened. “That has to do with how Moira was turned. Her sire didn't ask for her consent first. He wanted her for a wife, so ended up kidnapping her and turning her into a vampire without permission. She had a reputation as a talented seer and she was young enough to still hope for children despite being unmarried. When she became a vampire, both of those abilities were gone. She's never quite gotten over it, and witches are a constant reminder of the life she lost.”

“And why does she envy that witches die so easily?”

“Because she misses my father.” He inclined his head. “Well, I say father… Robert was my stepfather, Moira’s husband. He played no part in my siring but he helped raise and train Thea and me as vampires.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died.”

“Vampires can die?” She’d always been under the impression that vampires were immortal, unless their lives were ended early by alternate means.

“Yes, we can die. Robert was killed.” Oliver abruptly stopped talking, and judging by his harrowed expression, it was clear Felicity had pressed him for enough answers.

The trees thinned out, the forest fading behind them and the land opening up into a wide, open, sloping field. Felicity perked up in excitement at the same time Sahim began jerking at the reins impatiently. Picking up pace, Sahim brought Felicity just in front of Sayad and Oliver. The witch shot the vampire a pleading glance, desperate to feel the wind in her hair. Her adrenalin had built up over the last few days and she urgently needed a rush to release it all.

“Go ahead,” Oliver said in resignation. “But be careful.”

Felicity beamed happily. Touching her heels into Sahim’s flank, she reveled in the way the stallion instantly leaped forwards, catching the bit in his teeth as he broke into a canter, and then a brilliantly fluid gallop. He slowed up the slope of the hill, but once they reached the crest, he pranced and tossed his head, clearly enjoying the fact that Sayad and Oliver were standing at the bottom while they were on top. Felicity circled him into a fast figure eight, changing his leads on the fly to keep him from stumbling as he went around the corners.

“You coming or what?” she called down to Oliver, a challenge in her voice.

The vampire shook his head, amused. Beneath him, Sayad took off like a rocket - not at a canter, but a gallop - his black tail streaming out behind him and his hooves striking the earth with unbelievable speed. Felicity watched in admiration. So that was the point of destriers; they were incredibly fast and powerful. Oliver made no effort to slow his horse as he approached them, but Sayad stopped about six feet away abruptly, his sides bowed out slightly with the exertion. He nickered at Sahim almost triumphantly.

“You’re such a show-off!” Felicity laughed. “You won't even let me jump a fence, but you’re allowed to put on that display?”

“Sayad doesn't get enough exercise either. This is exactly what he needs.” The vampire grinned, pulling in the stallion’s reins as he began yanking at his bit, wanting to run again. “Hey, are you interested in a race? We'll give you a head start, of course,” he teased, blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh, you're on. Where to?”

Oliver pointed to a solitary tree on the top of another ridge in the distance. He eyed her alertly for the first indication of movement while Felicity swiveled Sahim around so he was in line with Sayad. The vampire had picked something that they could shoot past without running into anything. Maybe Sahim wasn't as good at sudden stops as Sayad was. 

Felicity knew there was no way she was going to surprise Oliver, and no way her horse, despite his smooth gaint, was going to beat Sayad up the ridge. She already knew Sayad was much, much faster than Sahim, although nowhere near as graceful. Still, she was eager to see how well her stallion could perform.

Felicity leaned forward and stroked Sahim on the neck, resting her chin for just a moment on his warm flesh and closing her eyes. _Fly_ , she encouraged him silently.

Sahim shot forward as if he’d been hit with a crop, launching into a gallop. Felicity’s natural rising instincts took over and she lifted herself out of the saddle to make it easier for the stallion to carry her weight, tying a loose knot in the reins before dropping them, allowing him to run freely. When Sahim’s speed stabilized, the witch lowered herself into the saddle, clutching the horse’s warm body between her calves. She kicked her feet free from the unnecessary stirrups, and wove her fingers wove through his mane.

Oliver and Sayad thundered behind them, and she could hear the vampire yelling at her to stop. It was like Felicity’s nightmare, where creatures, horses, and dogs had been chasing her. A sliver of fear crept through her, and Felicity bent down low along Sahim's neck, eyes closed and fingers tightening in his mane.

 _Fly!_ she repeated urgently. Sahim responded with even more speed, galloping so fast that his hooves barely touched the ground anymore.

They were still in the lead, ahead of Oliver and Sayad. The tree grew closer and closer. Felicity made no move to grab Sahim’s reins to slow him down. It was only when Oliver swore vehemently in Occitan that the stallion swerved to the left at the last minute, rushing past the tree before eventually slowing to a canter, and then a trot.

“We won!” Felicity shouted victoriously. She sat up and grabbed the reins just in time, as Sahim decided to rear up with a triumphant high-pitched neigh.

Sayad skidded to a halt directly beside them and Oliver lunged across the small gap between them to take hold of Sahim’s reins. A wave of guilt washed over her at his panicked expression. “Do you always ride unfamiliar horses at top speed, with your eyes closed, no reins, and no stirrups?” he demanded, his voice was coldly furious.

“You’re angry with me?” she questioned.

“Are you kidding? What you just did was stupidly dangerous.” He shook his head. “You row with your eyes shut - I've seen you. And you walk with them shut as well. I always suspected that magic was involved. You must use your power to ride as well. Otherwise you'd be dead.” Raising an eyebrow, he added, “And for what it's worth, I believe you're telling Sahim what to do with your mind and not with your hands and legs.”

Felicity frowned. That couldn’t be true, could it? Sahim had been listening to her, responding to her wishes almost instantly, but that didn’t strictly mean she communicating with him mentally. Oliver emitted an impatient sound and dismounted, sliding down the horse's side facing the front.

“Get down from there,” he said roughly, taking hold of Sahim’s reins to pull him closer.

Felicity began to dismount the traditional way, but when her back was to him, the vampire reached up and hauled her off the horse into his arms. Exhaling shakily, Oliver turned the witch around and crushed her to his chest.

“ _Dieu_ ,” he whispered into her hair. “You scared me. Don't do anything like that again, please.”

Felicity was confused by his reaction. She squirmed in his hug, leaning back to look him in the eye. “But… you brought me to France so I didn’t have to worry about what I was doing. So I could learn to use my magic and powers safely and freely.”

“I know. And I'm sorry,” he said earnestly. “I'm trying not to interfere. But it's difficult to watch you using powers you don't understand, especially when you're not aware you're doing it.”

“You really think I was telling Sahim what to do with my mind?”

Oliver’s expression grew solemn. “I do. And there’s a reason for it. There’s something I need to show you.”

They quickly tended to the horses, tying their reins to the tree so that they wouldn't step on them, but giving them the freedom to nibble the sparse fall grass if they wanted. After that, the vampire led Felicity to a rocky outcrop nearby. Taking a seat, she folded her legs carefully to the side so that her boots didn't cut into her legs. 

Oliver reached into the pocket of his breeches and drew out a piece of paper with black and gray bars on a white background, that looked as if it had been folded and refolded several times. He dropped down onto the rocks beside her, sliding up close so their knees were brushing before passing it over.

“This is a DNA report?” Felicity asked quietly.

“Yes, it’s yours.”

“When did you get it?” Her fingers traced the bars along the page.

“Roy brought the results to New College the night after you tried to recall the manuscript. But you were exhausted, and I didn't want to share them with you so soon after you were reminded of your parents' deaths.” He hesitated, appearing guilty and concerned. “Was I right to wait? Would you have preferred I told you immediately?”

She knew she wouldn’t have been able to properly process the results when so distraught after receiving those pictures, so Felicity nodded. The vampire sighed, relieved. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Because you deserve to know,” he said honestly. “And also because I don’t particularly want my mother and Raisa to overhear this conversation.” Reaching out, Oliver gently took a hold of her hand. “Are you ready?”

“What do they say?”

“We don't understand everything,” he replied slowly. “But Dinah and Roy did identify markers in your DNA that we've seen before. Felicity… so far we've discovered that you have every genetic marker we've ever identified in a witch.”

Her heart in her throat, she croaked, “What?”

“Let me show you.” Oliver tugged at the edge of the page so it was closer to him. Dinah's tiny, precise handwriting marched down the left column, and the bars, some circled with a red pen, filled the right-hand side of the paper. “This is the genetic marker for precognition,” he told her, pointing to the first circled smudge. His finger began slowly moving down the page. “This one is for flight. This helps witches find things that are lost. This one is for talking with the dead, this is transmogrification, this is telekinesis. This is spell casting, this one is charms, and this one is curses. And you've got mind reading, telepathy, and empathy - they're next to one another.”

Oliver continued to reel off powers and abilities one at a time until Felicity’s head spun and her chest felt tight from an oncoming panic attack. She’d never heard of a witch with more than one or two powers. The vampire had already reached a dozen - and it didn’t sound as if he was going to stop anytime soon.

“This can't be right.”

“I think the findings are right, Felicity,” he said softly. “These powers may never manifest, but you've inherited the genetic predisposition for them.” He flipped the page over. On the back, there were more red circles and more careful annotations, this time in a rough scrawl that most likely belonged to Roy. Oliver pointed to four small smudges. “You performed an elemental spell against Merlyn and released a witchwind on me when we were in Oxford. This explains how. You have the elemental markers of earth, air, and water, which indicates you’ll be able to control those elements. We've never seen a witch with more than two of these markers before. We’re most interested in the fact that you have water, which is very rare. Roy noted that it’s possible you might have fire as well - we’ve just never been able to identify the marker for it before.”

Her fingers were starting to tingle again, wisps of strong wind swelling around her ankles in response to her fluctuating anxious emotions. “So the wind marker means I can control witchwind. What does the water marker mean?”

“It means that you’ll be able to command what’s called witchwater,” Oliver explained. “Influence rain, rivers, lakes… perhaps even the ocean.”

“What does earth do?”

“Herbal magic, the power to affect growing things - the basics. Combined with spell casting, cursing, and charms, or any one of them, really, it means you have not only powerful magical abilities, but an innate talent for witchcraft.”

Felicity was in disbelief. Sara was good with spells; Nyssa wasn't but she could see the future. These were the classic differences among witches. There were divisions between those who used witchcraft, like Sara, from those who used natural magic, like Nyssa. It all boiled down to whether words shaped the witch’s power, or whether the witch just personally possessed magic and could wield it. Oliver was telling her that Felicity had the ability to do both - she had her own natural magic and powers, but could also use spells and enchantments if she wanted to.

She buried her face in her hands. “This can’t be possible. I’ve never felt connected to magic like Sara or Nyssa have. And you’re telling me that I’m potentially more powerful than both of them?”

“Actually, you’re potentially more powerful than any other witch to ever exist,” Oliver informed her carefully. “Like I said before… we’ve never encountered a witch before with as many power markers as you.”

“This is a very long list of powers.” Felicity clenched her hand around the page. “We've only seen - What? Four or five of them?”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m terrified,” she laughed bitterly.

“I suspect we've seen more powers than you think, such as the way you move with your eyes closed, your ability to communicate with Sahim, and your sparkly fingers. We just don't have names for them yet.”

“Please tell me that's all,” she whispered.

Oliver’s face contorted, as if it pained him to be distressing her further. “I’m sorry. Not quite.” He revealed another separate page from his breeches pocket, smoothing it down on his knees. “Dinah and Roy couldn't identify these markers. In most cases, we have to correlate accounts of a witch's activities - some of them centuries old - with DNA evidence. It can be hard to match them up.”

Her breath hitched. “What are you trying to say?”

“Felicity… we’ve found entirely new, undiscovered witch genetic markers in your DNA. It’s possible that you could possess powers that we don’t know about and have ever seen before.” His voice dropped lower. “When I said it’s possible you could be the most powerful witch to have ever lived… I meant it.”

Felicity folded up the genetic report pages. She couldn’t bear to look at them anymore or even think about what they represented. It was far too daunting. “Do the tests explain why I’m having all these accidental magic incidents? Do they explain why my powers are emerging now?”

“Your magic is behaving as if it's waking up after a long sleep,” Oliver mused, the thumb of his hand caressing over her knuckles. “All that inactivity has made it restless. It wants to get out.”

She shivered. “My parents were hunted down and persecuted because of their powers.”

“Hey.” The vampire raised his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek so she was forced to meet his gaze. The sheer protectiveness shining in Oliver’s blue eyes was enough to steal the oxygen from her lungs. “You don’t need to be afraid. We’ll face this together.”

Felicity nodded, leaning against his shoulder. Even though she and Oliver weren’t technically together in a romantic sense - they were both still in denial about the connection between them, although it was becoming extremely difficult to ignore - she believed that he would be there to support her if she needed him, no matter what. 

The vampire rocked gracefully to his feet, stretching his arms out before lifting the witch up as well. “We should get back onto the horses. You'll catch a cold sitting on the ground in his weather, and I'll have a hell of a time explaining myself to Raisa if you get sick.” He eyed her worriedly. “Are you going to be okay to ride? I know I just dropped a big bombshell on you. I can ride with you if you’d like.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” she murmured. She trusted that Sahim would respond to her emotions accordingly and wouldn’t let her fall off him.

Oliver narrowed his eyes, watching her face cautiously for any hint of deception for a moment, but then after deciding she was telling the truth, he whistled to the two stallions. They cantered over from where they’d drifted off into the field to munch on the longer grass there.

The witch and vampire rode for another hour, exploring the woods and fields around Sept-Tours. Oliver pointed out the best place to hunt rabbits and where his father had taught him to shoot a rifle. Felicity suspected that he was attempting to distract her from the genetic report, and wasn’t ashamed to admit he was succeeding.

Listening to Oliver talk about his early life as a vampire at Sept-Tours and adventures with his family was fascinating. When they finally turned back to the castle grounds, her worries over the test results had been replaced with a pleasant feeling of exhaustion.

“My muscles will be sore tomorrow,” she said, freeing her feet from the stirrups and groaning as they ached when she stretched them. Oliver shot her a slightly irritated look, but didn’t say anything about it, as Sahim was walking and she was relatively safe. “I haven't been on a horse for years.”

“Nobody would have guessed that from the way that you rode today,” he commented with a smile. They passed out of the forest and entered the chateau's stone gate. “You're an amazing rider, Felicity. Did you enjoy riding Sahim?” There was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I did, thank you. He’s a wonderful horse.”

“You’ll have to thank my mother. He’s her horse, after all.”

“I’ll make sure to express my gratitude then. Will I be allowed to ride him again?”

“Of course.” His expression turned serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can go out by yourself. If you’d like to ride again, please ask me so I can go with you. I don’t want you to be alone out here; it's too easy to lose your way.”

Felicity shot him a sharp look. Oliver wasn't worried she’d get lost, he was worried she’d be found. “I won't go out alone,” she promised.

Oliver relaxed at her agreement, hands releasing the reins he'd been clutching tightly for the past five minutes. The vampire was used to giving orders that were obeyed instantly, and he wasn't accustomed to making requests and negotiating - especially not with a stubborn and opinionated witch like her. “Thank you.”

Sidling Sahim closer to Sayad, Felicity reached over and took a hold of Oliver’s hand, raising it to press the palm to her mouth in a soft kiss. Her lips were warm against his hard, cold flesh, and the vampire’s pupils dilated in surprise.

Face splitting in a teasing grin, Felicity clucked Sahim into a trot and then a canter, directing him towards the stables. “Come on, I’ll race you back. I won the last race, you ready to watch Sahim and I leave you and Sayad in the dust again?”

Oliver followed behind at a gallop on his stallion, shaking his head in amusement with a soft chuckle. “No chance!”


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Galentine's Day! :)
> 
> Once again, thank you for all of your support and comments, they seriously mean the world to me.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

After untacking the horses and turning them out into the paddock, Oliver and Felicity went back into the château for lunch. There was a platter of sandwiches waiting for the witch in the kitchens, pre-prepared by Raisa, and she helped herself to them while Oliver enjoyed a glass of wine.

They headed back towards the vampire’s tower once Felicity had finished, Oliver bringing his wine with him; although she wanted to go straight to his study and start examining _Aurora Consurgens_ , Oliver insisted she take a bath first. Considering she hadn’t ridden a horse in a while, it was inevitable that her muscles were going to stiffen up. A hot bath with essential oils and salts would make that more bearable later on.

Felicity was arguing with him that the bath wasn’t necessary when halfway up the staircase, a horrific cramp twisted in her left calf. Her leg buckled beneath her and she’d barely gritted out, “Oh shit,” before she was falling.

Oliver immediately stepped forward and swept her into his arms bridal style. “What were you saying about not needing that bath?” he asked innocently.

She swatted at his chest with her free hand, her other arm winding around his neck for security. “Fine. But the _Aurora_ better be waiting for me on your desk as soon as I’m out of the bathroom.”

The bath was heavenly - hot, long and relaxing - and Felicity found herself wondering why she’d protested against it in the first place once she was in it. She pulled on black skinny jeans, a top, Oliver’s Henley, and a pair of socks before padding downstairs, where Oliver had stoked a blazing fire within the grate to heat the cold tower.

Oliver was sitting in front of the fireplace with his wine glass, laptop resting on his thighs. He glanced up with a smile as she began looking around searchingly. “As promised, your manuscript is on my desk next to your laptop.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re wearing your glasses,” he pointed out, his grin growing wider.

Felicity adjusted them on her nose self-consciously. She’d taken her contacts out before the bath and decided on wearing her glasses for the rest of the afternoon. “My eyes were dry and I needed to take them out to put eye drops in, but my sight isn’t good enough to read without lenses of some kind.”

“They suit you,” Oliver offered.

The manuscript’s black covers drew her in, prompting Felicity to sit down at the desk and open them up, holding the book carefully. The vibrant colors were even brighter than she remembered. After staring at an image of the white queen for several minutes, she turned the first page.

_Incipit tractatus Aurora Consurgens intitulatus._

The words were familiar and ones she’d read before. ‘Here begins the treatise called the Rising of the Dawn’. A shiver of pleasure associated with seeing a manuscript for the first time ran down her spine.

The _Aurora_ was a beautiful work, full of paraphrases from scripture as well as other texts. As Felicity started translating the passages from the book, making notes on a fresh Word document on her laptop, she realized that it would probably be good to have a copy of the Bible handy for comparing and relating quotes.

“Do you have a Bible up here?” she questioned the vampire, her eyes sweeping the bookcases of the study.

“Somewhere, definitely. But I'm not sure where it is. Do you want me to look for it for you?” Oliver rose slightly from his chair, but his eyes were still glued to his laptop screen.

“No, don’t worry. I'll find it.”

Felicity stood up and stretched, working her way around the room and running her finger down the edges of the shelves. All of Oliver’s books were arranged in a running timeline rather than by size or alphabetical order. The books on the first shelf were so ancient that Felicity didn’t want to think about what they contained; knowing what she did about Oliver already, anything was possible. Roughly half of the vampire’s books were shelved spine in, to protect the books' fragile edges due to how old they were. Many of these had identifying marks written along the edges of the pages, with titles and authors’ names. Halfway around the room, the books began to appear spine out, their titles and authors embossed in gold and silver.

As she continued to search for a Bible, Felicity froze when her index finger came across a thick, old book bound in brown leather and covered with gilding. “Oliver... please tell me 'Biblia Sacra 1450' is not what I think it is.”

Oliver chuckled across the room in amusement. “Okay, it's not what you think it is.”

He hadn’t looked up at her and was focusing on typing, paying little attention to what the witch was doing. Leaving Gutenberg's Bible where it was, Felicity carried on searching along the shelves, hoping that it wasn't the only one available.

“Were these books given to you by friends?” She stilled again at a book labeled _Will's Playes._

“Most of them, yeah,” Oliver replied, once again not looking up from his laptop screen.

Felicity shook her head, aghast, but decided to leave that little nugget be for now. For the most part, all of Oliver’s books were in pristine condition. This wasn’t surprising, given their owner. Some, though, were well worn. A slender, tall book with green cloth binding on the bottom shelf had corners so torn and thin that Felicity could see the wooden boards peeking through the cloth. Curious to see what had made this book a favorite of the vampire’s, the witch pulled it out cautiously after sneaking a look towards Oliver to check he wasn’t going to catch her snooping. She blinked in shock when she realized that she was holding a first edition of Darwin's _On the Origin of Species_ in her hands.

Oliver had written his name - with his real surname - in a beautiful copperplate script on the flyleaf. There was a letter tucking inside. Once again checking that the vampire wasn’t watching her, Felicity turned her back towards him subtly and unfolded the letter, beginning to read.

_Dear Sir. Your letter of 15 October has reached me at last. I am mortified at my slow reply. I have for many years been collecting all the facts which I could in regard to the variation and origin of species, and your approval of my reasonings comes as welcome news as my book will soon pass into the publisher's hands. C. Darwin. 1859._

Felicity was so light-headed that she felt like she needed to sit down. Oliver and Charles Darwin had been exchanging letters just weeks prior to _Origin_ 's publication in November. The vampire had _known Charles Darwin._

The book's pages were covered with Oliver’s notes in pencil and ink, leaving hardly an inch of blank paper. Three chapters were annotated even more heavily than the rest. They were the chapters on instinct, hybridism, and the affinities between the species. Oliver had underlined specific passages and written above and below the lines as well as in the margins, as he seemed to grow more excited by Darwin's ideas.

_Hence, we may conclude, that domestic instincts have been acquired and natural instincts have been lost partly by habit, and partly by man selecting and accumulating during successive generations, peculiar mental habits and actions, which at first appeared from what we must in our ignorance call an accident._

Oliver's scribbled remarks included questions about which instincts might have been acquired, and whether accidents were possible when it came to nature. _Can it be that we have maintained as instincts what humans have given up through accident and habit?_ he asked across the bottom margin. The ‘we’ was obviously meant to refer to creatures.

Felicity hastily glanced back over her shoulder when she heard the vampire stand and begin moving. But Oliver remained fixated on his laptop as he walked away from the fireplace to settle on the opposite side of his desk, still enraptured by his work. Closing the covers of _Aurora Consurgens_ to protect its pages and abandoning her search for a more ordinary Bible, the witch carried the copy of Origin over to the fire and curled up on the couch, considering the area was now free. Maybe she’d be able to find out more about Oliver based on the notes he'd made in his book.

In the chapter on hybridism, Oliver's interest had been caught by the problems of crossbreeding and sterility.

_First crosses between forms sufficiently distinct to be ranked as species, and their hybrids are very generally, but not universally, sterile._ A sketch of a family tree crowded the margins next to the underlined passage. There was a question mark where the roots belonged and four branches.

Oliver’s notes were just as fascinating as Darwin’s original words. _Why has inbreeding not led to madness?_ He’d questioned, his handwriting curving around the tree's trunk. At the top of the page, he’d written, _1 species or 4?_

Felicity traced the writing with her finger with a stuttered breath. When Darwin began discussing the affinities between species, Oliver's pen had been unable to stop racing across the page, making it nearly impossible to read the printed text.

Against a passage explaining, _From the first dawn of life, all organic beings are found to resemble each other in descending degrees, so that they can be classed in groups under groups,_ the vampire had written **ORIGINS** in large black letters. Oliver had also written **COMMON PARENTS** in the margins next to the paragraph, _Finally, the several classes of facts which have been considered in this chapter, seem to me to proclaim so plainly, that the innumerable species, genera, and families of organic beings, with which this world is peopled, have all descended, each within its own class or group, from common parents, and have all been modified in the course of descent._

In 1859, Oliver had thought it was possible that daemons, humans, vampires, and witches shared common ancestors. Judging by his other annotations in _Origin_ , he’d also believed that the differences between all the creatures and humans were due to descent, habit, and selection.

Oliver had evaded giving a proper answer to the question of whether humans and creatures were related species when Felicity had asked him in his Oxford labs, but he couldn't do so in his own personal Sept-Tours library. He was still a complete mystery. Oliver in France was different from Oliver in England.

Felicity found her gaze wandering over to him, watching him as he typed, lost in his work. Although his shoulders were relaxed, he'd caught his lower lip in his slightly elongated, sharp cuspid. It was a sign of concentration, as was the crease between his eyes. The vampire was oblivious to the witch’s attention, his fingers flying over the keys. When he reached the end of a sentence, he leaned back in his chair, flexing his hands, and then he yawned.

She tilted her head sideways at him. She’d never seen him yawn before. Was his yawn, like his lowered shoulders, a sign of relaxation? Watching his casual movements, she realized that this was his environment - his territory. Oliver was acting like a leopard would do out in the African wildlands, lazing in a tree he’d claimed as his own. He was allowing himself a moment’s peace because of the familiar environment and because he trusted those around him. Her heart warmed; that had to mean that he trusted her and felt comfortable around her.

Turning back to _Origin_ , Felicity tried to read a couple more pages, examining Oliver’s notes, but the bath, the warm fire, and the constant background noise of Oliver’s clicking fingers on his laptop’s keyboard gradually lulled her into a restful sleep.

When Felicity woke up, peering about groggily, she’d been arranged to lie sideways on the couch and was covered with a woolen blanket. _Origin_ had been placed on the table in front of her, neatly closed with a slip of paper marking her last place. Her glasses were neatly folded on top. The witch instantly blushed. The vampire had caught her being nosy.

“Good evening,” Oliver said softly. He was seated in the armchair opposite her, reading a genetics book with a glass of wine in hand. He slid a piece of paper between the pages before putting it aside. “How was your nap?”

“Okay,” she answered, clearing her throat and sweeping her hand through her hair. “Did I miss anything?”

“No. It’s six thirty and I just opened a fresh bottle of wine for myself. Would you like some?”

Wine sounded very, very good. “Yes, please.”

Oliver nodded and walked over to a small table tucked into the corner of the room. There was a dark bottle with no label on top of it, the cork pulled and lying at its side. He poured her a glass, topped up his one and carried her glass over to her before sitting down next to her on the couch, gently poking her in her side to encourage her to shuffle up and make room.

“Here.” He passed her glasses over to her. “They fell off when you were sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Dipping her nose to the wine as she slipped her glasses on, Felicity sniffed, anticipating his question. “It smells like blackberries and oakwood.”

The vampire shot her a look of approval. “You're pretty good at this.” He took a sip, quirking an eyebrow. “For a witch, anyway.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “What is it that I'm drinking? Is it ancient? Rare?”

“Neither,” Oliver laughed. “It was probably put in the bottle about five months ago. It's local wine, from vineyards down the road. Nothing fancy, nothing special.” His eyes flickered from her face to her fingers curled around her wine glass, and then to _Origin_ on the table. “So you gave up your search for a Bible in favor of something more scientific. Were you enjoying Darwin?”

She nodded. “Do you still believe that creatures and humans are descended from common parents? Is it possible that the differences between us are merely racial?” she asked hesitantly.

He emitted a small sound of impatience. “I told you in the lab that I didn't know.”

“You were certain in 1859,” Felicity frowned at him. “And I read your notes - one them was about drinking blood simply being a dietary habit, rather than a mark of differentiation.”

“It's a scientist's prerogative to change his mind as new information comes to light. Do you know how many scientific advances have taken place between the nineteenth century and 2018?” Oliver drank some wine and rested the glass against his knee, twisting it within his fingers so that the firelight played on the liquid inside. “There's not much scientific evidence for human notions of racial distinctions anymore. Modern research suggests that most ideas about race are nothing more than an outmoded human method for explaining easily observable differences between themselves and someone else.”

Felicity cocked her head sideways, examining him closely. The faintly frustrated and drained expression on his face caused her to narrow her eyes. “The question of why and how creatures exist - specifically vampires - really does frustrate you,” she said slowly. “I could see it on every page of _Origin_ in your annotations.”

Oliver wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It's the only question worth asking.” His voice was soft, but his profile was haunted. Felicity’s heart jolted in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to smooth the hard lines on his face and lift his features into a smile. “Should we join Moira in the salon at seven before dinner?”

“Yes,” she replied, squaring her shoulders slightly. “But let me change first.”

Felicity knew that nothing in the small wardrobe she’d brought with her from Oxford wouldn't hold a candle to Moira's, but she didn't want Oliver to be completely ashamed of her. As ever, the vampire looked ready for a boardroom meeting in a simple pair of black trousers, a light blue shirt, and a dark grey blazer. Felicity rooted through the clothes in her duffel bag until she found the semi-formal red dress she’d packed. It wasn’t amazing and she definitely wouldn’t be ready for any sort of catwalk like Oliver’s mother constantly appeared to be, but the dress was much better than the skinny jeans and Henley she was currently wearing. Her hair had a small wave in it thanks to her earlier bath but once she’d brushed it out, it was fine.

With the minimum conditions of presentability met, Felicity slid on a pair of black heels, went into the bathroom to freshen up her make-up and put in contacts, and started down the stairs. Oliver's keen ears had picked up the sound of her movements, and he met her near the stairs leading down to the bottom of the tower. When he saw her, the vampire’s blue eyes lit up and his smile was beautiful.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, kissing her formally on both cheeks. He lifted her hair around her shoulders, the strands falling through his fingers as he swept it back. “Remember, don’t let my mother get under your skin, no matter what she says.”

“I’ll try.”

Moira and Raisa were already waiting in the salon when they arrived. Moira was surrounded by newspapers written in every major European language, as well as one in Arabic and another in Hebrew, which perked Felicity’s interest. The two female vampires looked up as they approached.

“Good evening, _Maman_ ,” Oliver said warmly, bending down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

Moira’s nostrils flared as Oliver straightened up in front of her, and in a flash, the female vampire’s ferocious eyes were fixed on Felicity, a hint of fury visible in them. The witch swallowed, shifting nervously. She knew exactly what had earned her such a dark look. Oliver smelled like her. She was certain that she had the vampire’s scent all over her as well.

Sensing the tension in the air, Raisa beckoned Felicity over, patting the cushion next to her. “Come sit next to me, Dr Smoak,” she said, shooting Moira a half-hearted glare. “You are cold, let the fire warm you.”

“Thank you, Raisa,” she replied gratefully. She took her seat on the couch, sliding up to make room for Oliver to sit as well. “But please, call me Felicity.”

“Of course, Miss Felicity,” Raisa smiled. “We are delighted you could join us for dinner this evening. Are we not, _Madame?_ ” she angled the question towards Moira with a crisp, warning tone.

Moira closed her eyes, but when they opened again, her rage was gone and replaced by something close to resignation. “Yes, we are,” she said, before turning to her son and murmuring, “ _Gab es einen anderen Tod_ ,” while passing over the German newspaper _Die Welt._

“Where?” Felicity asked. If Moira thought she was going to shut the witch out of the conversation by speaking in German, that wasn’t going to work. She was reasonably fluent in quite a few European languages due to the fact she’d had to travel around various libraries to study different alchemical manuscripts.

“Düsseldorf,” Oliver told her, a look of disgust on his face as he flipped through the newspaper pages. “Somebody needs to do something about this. The humans are starting to realize that the bodies drained of blood aren’t the result of some psychotic murderer’s M.O.”

“It’s the Congregation’s problem to deal with, not ours,” Moira said stiffly. Swiveling around to the witch, she changed the subject by asking, “How was your ride today, Felicity?

Oliver flipped over the newspaper, peering warily at his mother. His free hand settled over Felicity’s knee, squeezing in a show of support. Raisa stood to collect a tray with glasses of wine, passing them around the group.

“It was wonderful. Thank you for letting me ride Sahim,” Felicity said politely.

“He’s much too willful for my liking,” Moira replied. “Nadra is much more biddable. As I get older, I find that quality admirable in horses.”

“In sons, too,” Oliver muttered, smelling his wine appreciatively. He raised his glass in tribute to his mother. “Thank you, _Maman_.”

“ _Hein_ , it's not much,” Moira said, taking a sip of the same wine.

Oliver savored the wine's flavors before swallowing the liquid down. “No, not much. Just one of my favorites. Thank you for remembering.”

"Are all vampires as fond of wine as you are?” Felicity asked him curiously. “You drink it all the time, but you don’t seem affected by the alcohol content at all.”

Oliver smiled. “Most vampires are much fonder of it. As for getting drunk, our family has always been known for its restraint, hasn't it, _Maman_?”

Moira smirked. “With respect to wine, perhaps.”

“You should be a diplomat, or a politician, Moira. You're very good with a quick non-answer,” Felicity commented.

Beside her, the vampire snorted with laughter. “ _Dieu_ , I never thought the day would come when my mother would be thought of as diplomatic. Especially not with her words. Moira's always been much better with the diplomacy of the sword.”

Raisa snickered in agreement. Moira looked indignant and Felicity was just confused, which only made Oliver laugh again. They moved into the dining room shortly after that. The atmosphere at dinner was considerably warmer than Felicity had expected it to be. Oliver sat at the head of the table, with his mother to his left and the witch at his right. Raisa barely remained in her seat next to Moira for longer than five minutes at a time, traveling incessantly from the kitchen to the fireplace to the table, occasionally taking sips of her wine and making small contributions to the conversation.

Plates full of food came and went; everything from wild mushroom soup to salads to quail to delicate slices of beef. Oliver, Moira, and Raisa kept on making teasing jabs at each other about each other’s past and Felicity chuckled at their smiles and rolling of eyes, feeling strangely comforted to be part of a family again, even if it was a family of vampires.

After dinner, they returned to the salon, where the fire was larger and more impressive than before. Oliver made sure that both Felicity and his mother were comfortable, filling up Moira’s wine glass before he crossed the room to fiddle with a nearby record player that looked authentic and old, but well cared for. Felicity declined more wine considering she’d already had two glasses so Raisa made her tea instead, thrusting the cup and saucer into her hands.

“Drink,” she instructed, her eyes warm. As she scented the tea, Moira glanced over with a long, suspicious look, watching the witch take a tentative sip. “It will help you sleep. Stop the nightmares.”

The tea was herbal and tasted like flowers, fresh and bitter. Although she didn’t usually like herbal teas, this one was quite mild and sweet on her tongue once a little sugar was added. “Did you make this?”

“ _Da_ ,” Raisa answered, turning up her chin at Moira’s questioning stare. “I have made it for a long time. My mother taught me and I will teach you how as well.”

The sound of dance music filled the room, lively and rhythmic. Felicity blinked in surprise. Oliver adjusted the record player so the music played smoothly before clearing a spot on the floor, pushing chairs to the edges of the room.

“ _Vòles dançar amb ieu?_ ” the vampire asked his mother, holding out both of his hands.

Moira appeared shocked for a moment before a radiant smile crossed her face. It was the first time Felicity had seen her look genuinely happy since her arrival at Sept-Tours. “ _Òc_ ,” she agreed, taking his hands to allow him to guide her to the center of the salon.

When Oliver and his mother began to dance, Felicity’s jaw dropped. Their bodies came together and drew apart, turned in circles away from each other and then dipped and turned in such graceful, smooth movements that they appeared to be gliding across the floor. At the end of the song, Moira dipped into a graceful curtsy, and Oliver swept into a bow, pressing a kiss to her hand before stepping away.

“You always were a good dancer,” Moira said proudly.

Oliver smiled. “As much as I hated learning. I’m definitely not as good as you - and certainly not as good as Father was.”

A heartbreaking look of sadness crossed over Moira’s face at the mention of her late husband and Felicity found herself feeling immense sympathy for the vampire, even though it was clear that Moira didn’t like her. Oliver picked up his mother’s hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles in an apology. Moira managed a small smile in return, reaching up to pat him on the cheek.

The next song was slower and more melodic, and the female vampire made a face, taking a seat once again.

“Not so sure you’d like this one,” Oliver laughed. Instead, he extended a hand out to Felicity. “Now it's your turn.”

Felicity frantically shook her head in protest. “Oh, no. I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I really. Come on, just give it a try,” he encouraged, taking her right hand in his left and drawing her from the couch, pulling her close. “I’m not exactly a great dancer either but it could be fun.”

“That’s not true,” Felicity said. “I’m not nearly well-coordinated enough to dance. I have two left feet. I’ll be tripping all over you, believe me.”

The vampire settled his hand over her waist and twisted the witch’s body into a dancing position easily. “You run with wolves at your heels, skim across the water in a boat the width of a feather when rowing, and ride horses like the wind itself. Dancing should be second nature to you.”

“Oliver, be careful with her,” Moira warned, as he anchored an arm around Felicity’s hips to begin helping her move fluidly across the floor.

“She won't break, _Maman_. Felicity is anything but fragile.”

Oliver proceeded to dance with her, despite the witch’s clumsiness and hesitance. With his right hand at Felicity’s waist, he gently steered her into the proper steps, emitting quiet sounds of praise and encouragement. Felicity tried to look down at her feet and started to think about where her legs were in an effort to help the process along, but this only made things worse. She kept on treading on the vampire’s toes. Her back stiffened and she attempted to draw away, embarrassed, but Oliver only clasped her tighter.

“Hey, relax,” he said into her ear. “No need to tense up.”

“Let him lead,” Moira called from the couch, sounding amused. “Your job is to follow. In the dance, at least.”

Felicity gripped Oliver’s shoulder, wincing when she tried to sink into his body but ended up stepping on his foot again. “I can't do this.”

Oliver spun them around. “Yes, you can. Close your eyes, stop thinking about it, and let me do the rest. Trust me, Felicity.”

Taking a deep breath, she did as he commanded and her eyes slipped closed. Blind inside the circle of his arms, it was easy to do what he instructed. Without the whirling shapes and colors of the room overwhelming her, Felicity could relax and stop worrying about how she and Oliver were moving. Gradually, she eased into the dance, the darkness and relying on the vampire to guide her body becoming enjoyable as her legs and feet moved on instinct. It felt like floating.

“Oliver...” Moira's voice held a note of caution and awe. “ _Elle est chatoyante_.”

“I know,” he whispered. The muscles in Felicity’s shoulders tensed with concern. She was shimmering? Her magic was playing up again, but she didn’t understand how. “Hey, it’s okay,” Oliver soothed her. “I’ve got you.”

Her eyes remained tightly closed. If Oliver said it was all right, then it was all right and she didn’t need to worry. They continued to swirl together in time with the music. As the song faded out, Oliver gently released her, spinning Felicity out to the end of his fingers. The witch rolled back along his arm until she came to rest with her back against his chest and his arms wrapped around her.

“Open your eyes and look down,” Oliver murmured.

Felicity’s eyelids slowly lifted open. A faint gleam was shining off her skin down her arms, hands, and fingers, which must have been the shimmer that Moira had mentioned before. The feeling of floating remained. When the witch glanced down, she exhaled in astonishment to find her feet were dangling several inches above the floor. Oliver carefully released her, backing away. He wasn't holding her up at all. She was actually floating in mid-air.

With that realization, the weight returned to the lower half of Felicity’s body. Oliver lunged forward to catch her before her feet could smash into the floor and cause her knees to buckle beneath her. The vampire smiled at her reassuringly, while Felicity tried to concentrate on the uncanny feeling of the earth under her feet again. Her skin continued to glow, the magic radiating off her freely.

“Extraordinary,” Oliver breathed, his eyes alight with wonder. “Felicity… you are remarkable.”

She blushed as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear in a manner that was becoming more of a habit for him. “Thank you for remarking on it,” she replied softly.

Taking her hand, Oliver led her back over to the couches, picking up his wine as they walked past the table. By the time they sat down once again, the shimmering seemed to have stopped, although all three of the vampires were eyeing her intensely, watching for it to start up again. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” Felicity admitted.

"I hoped you would. That’s the first time I’ve actually seen you enjoy your magic. Maybe now you'll ride with your eyes open for a change.” He shot her a winning smile. “Or dance some more.”

Shaking her head, Felicity laughed softly and responded, “With you, I'll dance. But until I figure out how this flying business works, there’ll be no other partners.”

“Technically speaking, you were floating, not flying,” Oliver corrected, squeezing their entwined fingers.

“Whether it was floating or flying, it would be best not to do it with strangers.”

“Agreed,” he nodded. “Although that might be because I’m a possessive dance partner.”

Moira sounded genuinely confused when she questioned, “This was her first time?”

“Felicity doesn't use her magic, _Maman_ , except for little things,” Oliver explained.

The female vampire did look appear pleased by this information. “She’s full of power, and her witch's blood sings in her veins. She should be able to use magic for big things, too.”

“It's her decision whether she uses it or not.”

Moira rolled her eyes, turning her attention from her son to the witch. “It’s time for you to grow up, Felicity, and accept responsibility for who and what you are. While you may be a scholar by nature, you are a powerful witch in your heart and bones.”

A rumbling warning growl erupted from Oliver’s throat, his blue eyes flashing dangerously as he tightened his grip on Felicity’s hand and glared at his mother.

“Don’t growl at me, Oliver Queen. I’m saying what needs to be said,” Moira scoffed.

“You're telling her what to do. It's not your job.”

“Nor is it yours!” his mother retorted. “You can shield her from the Congregation, but you can’t protect her from herself. Felicity is a grown, intelligent woman who does not need coddling, as you seem determined to keep reminding me. If that’s true, then why are you constantly playing into this ridiculous fantasy of hers that she can pose as a human and ignore her power?”

“Excuse me!” Felicity interrupted fiercely. Her heart was racing at the sudden shift in atmosphere from warm and welcoming to tense and cold, and the witch’s sharp tone caught all of the vampires’ attentions. Both of the Queens, mother and son, stared at her. “Like Oliver said, it's my decision whether I use my magic or not, and how I use it. But,” she added, turning to Moira, “You’re also right. My powers can't be ignored any longer. They seem to be bursting out of me at the most random of times and I need to learn how to control them, at the very least.”

“Thank you,” Moira said, sounding triumphant. “See, Oliver? Felicity agrees with me.”

Oliver reluctantly backed down, nodding. He drained the rest of his wine and brushed himself down before standing. “It’s getting late. I’m taking the only one of us who needs her sleep up to bed.”

Felicity rose from her seat, mostly due to the fact that the vampire had his hand on her elbow and she didn’t want to be dragged to her feet behind him. “Good night,” she told Moira and Raisa with a hesitant smile. “Thank you both for dinner. I had a great evening.”

Raisa waved in response with a happy grin; Moira did her best to smile back, but managed only a tight grimace. At least Oliver’s mother didn’t seem to hate her anymore. The female vampire appeared to at least tolerate her now, for her son’s sake.

They took a different path back to the tower, along the battlements rather than through the castle. It was easy for Felicity to orientate herself and head back towards Oliver’s tower when she could clearly see it looming in the distance. The vampire allowed Felicity to lead the way, placing his hand gently on the small of her back as they walked.

“I might read for a bit when we get back,” she told him. “I didn’t get through very much of the _Aurora_ today. I was distracted by _Origin_.” When Oliver didn’t respond, she turned to face him with a questioning, “Oliver?”

He was standing directly behind her, so close that the faint, ragged sound of his breath was audible. His blue eyes shone in the darkness, filled with an indescribable emotion that softened his expression. Felicity’s own breathing stuttered as the vampire took a step towards her and gently took her face in his hands, his fingers cold as his calloused thumbs stroked over her cheeks.

Oliver’s eyes flickered down to her lips and then back up again. “What spell have you put on me?” he whispered.

“Spell?” she repeated, her voice equally as quiet.

“It's not just your eyes - though they do make it impossible for me to think straight - or the fact you smell like honey, so intoxicating that I can barely breathe around you.” With a resounding purr, Oliver buried his face into Felicity’s neck, the fingers of one hand sliding into her hair while the other drifted down her back, yanking her hips toward him. It caused Felicity to gasp and the vampire’s purr to deepen. “It's your fearlessness,” he murmured against her skin, “Your intelligence, compassion, and the way you move without thinking, the shimmer you give off when you concentrate - how your blood hums whenever I touch you.”

Felicity released a soft noise, her neck arching to expose more flesh to his touch, which burned like frigid ice but created a lick of warmth throughout her. Oliver’s arm around her hips secured her body to his, his knee slipping between her thighs slightly. Aware of Moira's disapproving presence down in Sept-Tours main keep, as well as her acute, vampiric hearing, the witch tried to pull away.

“Oliver, your mother -”

Oliver cut her off with a growl, giving her no chance to complete her sentence as he pressed his lips to hers with a soft, satisfied sound. He kissed her, gently but thoroughly, until Felicity sank into his arms and her whole body - not just her hands and fingers - was tingling. She kissed him back, feeling a simultaneous sense of floating and falling until the witch had no clear awareness of where her body ended and the vampire’s began.

He broke away, only for his mouth to drift to her cheeks and eyelids, dropping tiny kisses there, then to her forehead. Felicity shivered when she felt his lips brush against her ear. “You think I care about what my mother thinks?” he asked her quietly. “If it means I get to kiss you, I couldn’t care less about anything on this entire planet.”

“You can’t say things like that, Oliver.”

He smiled and laughed lightly. “Why not?”

“Because it really, really makes me want to kiss you again,” she whispered.

“Nothing’s stopping you.”

Taking that as both permission and an invitation, Felicity jumped up onto her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again until she was forced to pull away for air, head spinning. “It’s at moments like this that I envy the fact that vampires don’t require as much oxygen as other creatures do.”

“I love that you’re a warmblood, and not a vampire,” Oliver murmured. “You’re so _alive_. And I love that you’re a witch most of all because your magic gives away your emotions.” He dipped his head, so their foreheads touched. “You’re glowing again. It’s beautiful. _You’re_ beautiful.”

“I should have realized you’re a charmer as soon as you told me you’re French.”

He chuckled, reluctantly pulling away but keeping her tucked into his side. “Come on, let’s go back to my tower. It’s late and you need your rest.”

“Will you come to bed with me?” Oliver’s eyes widened with surprise at the invitation, and blood coursed to Felicity’s face in embarrassment. “Not like _that!_ Just for cuddles. And kisses.”

The vampire shook his head, grinning in amusement. “I’ll come up, but not to stay. We have time, Felicity. You've only known me for a few weeks. There's no need for us to rush.”

“Spoken like a vampire,” she muttered, feeling slightly dejected.

Sighing, Oliver drew her in closer for another lingering kiss. It was over far too soon and left Felicity feeling as if the ground had been swept from her feet once again. Her lips were simultaneously freezing and burning. “A promise of what's to come,” he said, “In time.”

They returned to his tower at a leisurely pace, walking hand and hand and even keeping their fingers linked as they made their way up the stairs. The bedroom was ablaze with candles and warm from a lit fire. How Raisa had got up there, change dozens of candles and set a fire going in the short time they’d spent on the battlements, Felicity had no idea, but the room didn’t have any heating and was freezing without a fire, so she was grateful that the housekeeper had managed it.

Felicity changed in the bathroom into pajamas behind a partially closed door, listening to Oliver as he waited outside and told her their plans for the next day. They were going riding again in the morning and would spend the rest of the day in the study and library, so the witch could study the _Aurora_ manuscript, and maybe go for a walk around the grounds afterward.

Oliver had to help her up into the bed due to how high it was, and once Felicity was comfortable, he tucked the sheets around her body lightly before beginning to walk around the room, pinching out the candles and trailing shadows behind him as the room slowly fell into darkness.

“Oliver?” she whispered, mouth muffled by her pillow. “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? I don’t want to have nightmares again.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Would you like me to read to you?”

“Not anything interesting, otherwise I’ll be kept awake,” Felicity yawned.

The vampire picked what appeared to be a biochemistry textbook off a pile tucked into the corner of the bedside counter, perching on the bed next to her. One of his hands settled on her side while the other flipped through the pages. “I think reading to you about the variable phosphorylation states of the retinoblastoma protein will send you straight off to sleep.”

Snuggling down into the blankets, she replied, “No, read to me about the tricarboxylic acid cycle or DNA transcription instead. Those bored me to death at high school.”

“I’m trying not to be offended as a biochemist here,” he laughed softly. “You’re insulting my craft.”

She prodded his back with her finger. “Bored by the science, not bored by the scientist. Read to me, Oliver.”

Felicity was barely conscious by the time the vampire was explaining the action of succinate dehydrogenase to her. Just before the witch slipped off into the blackness of slumber, she felt his lips press against her forehead and his hands gently maneuvering her body into a more comfortable curled up position on her side.

“Goodnight, Oliver,” she mumbled.

“Goodnight, Felicity.”


	25. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm sorry about not updating the last couple of weeks. Things kind of got hectic with real life.
> 
> My family and I were forced to put my dog, Charlie, to sleep due to a traumatic injury. It was devastating for all of us because none of her were with him when it happened - I was at university, my family were on vacation - and he was in a large amount of pain for several days before we were able to see him.
> 
> Unfortunately, there was no proper way for his injury to heal, as any operation that the vets offered to give him would have created high risk for an even worse injury. He would have had no quality of life after. He was a cocker spaniel and loved to run, sprint and swim, and he wouldn’t have been able to do any of those things. He wouldn’t have even been able to walk.
> 
> In the end, considering the circumstances, we decided that putting him to sleep was the kindest thing to do. I sat with him and held him while they did it so he wasn’t alone. It’s taken quite a while to recover emotionally because as many of you know, Charlie was one of the best parts of my life and he always will be. I really miss him. My life is a lot quieter and dimmer without him in it.
> 
> I was isolating myself for a while so I finally decided to come back to social media and posting fics, which has actually helped me feel better. I'm sorry if I disappointed or angered any of you by not updating recently.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this longer chapter xx The first third is adapted from an ADOW fic I wrote a couple months back.

Oliver greeted Felicity with a breakfast tray the next morning after she emerged from the bathroom, having showered and dressed into her freshly washed riding breeches, a t-shirt and the vampire’s Henley. She was becoming rather attached to it and it was definitely her favorite sweater to wear; judging by the way Oliver purred upon seeing her wearing his clothes, he very much approved.

“Good morning, _mon coeur_ ,” he greeted her, his voice a deep, pleased rumble.

“Morning,” she inclined her head, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail. “You brought me breakfast?”

The vampire set the tray down on the table, lifting the cover that was keeping the food warm to reveal French toast, scrambled eggs, hash browns, tomatoes, and chopped fresh fruit. “I told Raisa we were going out riding early this morning,” he explained. “She thought you needed something filling with lots of carbohydrates.”

“You two are spoiling me,” Felicity smiled, sliding into her chair and pouring herself a glass of orange juice from a full decanter Oliver had placed next to the tray.

“Hmm, I don't hear you complaining,” he chuckled. Bending over, Oliver gave her a lingering kiss, his fingers gently tipping Felicity’s chip upwards. The witch’s eyes opened in surprise but quickly fluttered shut as she kissed him back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, thank you,” Felicity replied, her cheeks reddening at the memory of the invitation she'd extended to him last night to sleep in bed with her. There was a small twinge of hurt when she recalled the vampire’s gentle rebuff, but this morning's kiss confirmed to her that her instincts in Oxford about the relationship between them escalating were correct. She and Oliver had slipped past the limits of a platonic friendship, and were moving in a new romantic direction. “I’m excited about riding again today.”

“I was thinking that we could head south, to the forest in the valley,” Oliver said. He already had a glass of wine in front of him and it didn’t matter to him that it was barely 9am. “There’s a cross country course built there.”

“We’re going jumping!?” Felicity asked, suddenly much more exhilarated. She loved all forms of horse jumping, but considering Oliver’s overprotective nature, she never thought he would allow her to.

“You proved to me yesterday that you’re a skilled and experienced rider. You handled Sahim beautifully. Your magic also instinctively kept you safe and balanced. I think it would be interesting to see how this new power of yours to do with communicating with animals aids you in when it comes to jumping.” The vampire paused then added sternly, “That still means you have to act carefully and sensibly. You still have to wear your vest and helmet, listen to me and do what I say.”

“But you are actually going to let me jump Sahim?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oliver released a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. I don’t think I could stop you at this point. Just… keep your feet in the stirrups and hands on the reins at all times. I think I’ll have a heart attack if I see you jumping with your eyes closed.” He drained his wine and stood. “I’m going to tack up the horses. Finish your breakfast and meet me down at the stables. I’ll have your equipment ready and waiting.”

“Thank you.”

She was about to stand and kiss him when Oliver stepped forwards and pressed his lips to hers, cupping her face. The kiss was short but just as heated and loving as before. The vampire trailed his fingers over her shoulder blades as he departed, leaving Felicity feeling cold and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Despite Oliver’s icy presence having left, it felt as if the warmth had been leached from the room.

Felicity finished off her breakfast quickly, slipping on socks and sneakers and grabbing her jacket before heading out of the tower. She stopped off in the kitchens to grab apples for the horses on her way out to the stables. The dew across the grass lawns had frozen due to the lower temperatures and there was a sharp bite to the wind; while it might be warmer in the cover of the forest, riding would expose her to the elements a lot more, and Felicity didn’t want to freeze.

Oliver was finishing up tightening the girth strap on Sahim’s saddle when she arrived at the paddock. To her surprise, he’d tacked up Constantine instead of Sayad or Humarya. The giant dappled grey Percheron was several hands taller than Sahim but seemed to respect the smaller stallion, standing next to him calmly. Both of the horses reared their heads as Felicity approached once she’d pulled on her boots, vest, and helmet.

“Apple for you,” she fed one to Sahim, who chomped it up happily, “And an apple for you.” Constantine swallowed the apple down in two bites with a loud whinny. “How come you’re riding Constantine instead of Sayad today?” Felicity asked Oliver curiously.

“Sayad isn’t really a jumper,” the vampire answered. He was checking the blanket on Sahim’s back, keeping a wary eye on Constantine as Felicity stroked over his nose. “I was planning on riding Humarya but then this troublemaker was pretty much kicking his stall door down when I got here. He has a lot of energy he needs to get rid of. Constantine’s a flat racer with a lot of stamina but he enjoys cross country from time to time. Sahim’s fully tacked if you want to take him around the paddock for a warm up. I just need to check Constantine’s girth strap again. He has this awful habit of trying to throw me.”

After checking Sahim’s hooves and tack over swiftly, Felicity vaulted up onto the stallion’s back, wiggling in the saddle until she was comfortable and playing with her reins. Constantine danced impatiently, obviously wanting to join in while Oliver adjusted his bit. Clicking Sahim into a walk and then a trot, Felicity guided him in circles around the paddock. His motion was just as fluid as yesterday, and since she already had a day’s worth of experience riding Sahim, Felicity was used to how he moved. She was able to shift her torso so he could canter without her weight fully sitting on him.

Glancing over her shoulder at the paddock fence towards the direction of the open field, the witch bit her lip. She snuck a look over towards Oliver. He was about to clamber up onto Constantine’s back and wasn’t facing her. Now would be the perfect time to hop the five-foot tall fence and prove to Oliver that he didn’t need to worry about her when it came to jumping. While five feet was quite high, she had no doubt Sahim would be able to clear it. Sensing her intentions, Sahim increased his speed from a canter to a gallop as they turned the corner and faced the fence, yanking at the reins.

_Take it easy_ , she told the stallion as they rushed towards it. _Nice and relaxed._

Sahim obeyed her command with a flick of his ears. They cleared the fence with grace and minimal effort, and for a moment Felicity felt weightless as they flew through the air. The jolt of landing caused her to jerk a little in the saddle, but other than that, their jump had been completely smooth.

She turned the stallion around as he slowed to a walk just in time to see Oliver sailing over the same fence on Constantine. The Percheron’s sheer bulk meant that he was nowhere near as elegant as Sahim, but his height allowed him to jump with ease. The vampire pulled Constantine up a couple of meters away from Felicity and Sahim, which was a good thing, considering the huge horse immediately reared up and tossed his head upon stopping.

“That was dangerous!” Oliver snapped at her, his voice dark and edged with anger. “You should have waited until I could watch to make sure you were safe!”

“You know I can ride excellently, Oliver, were you seriously worried I wouldn’t be able to jump a horse like Sahim over a five-foot fence?” she asked incredulously.

“I thought we’d be starting with lower fences and logs, not fences like that,” he retorted. She frowned at him. He wasn’t angry, exactly. He was concerned, and nervous. “Don’t do anything like that again or I’m not going to allow you to ride for the rest of our time here.”

“You can’t do that!” she argued.

His eyes blazed. “Yes, I can!”

“Stop treating me like some delicate flower!” Felicity shouted. “I wanted to jump that fence to prove to you that you don’t need to constantly worry about me. I told Sahim to take it easy and he did. I don’t appreciate being patronized, Oliver.” Her voice dropped to a disappointed murmur. “I thought we were partners. Right now you’re treating me like a damsel in distress, precisely what you told me I’m definitely _not_.”

An expression of conflicted pain passed over the vampire’s face. “I just want you to be safe.”

“And I want you to trust that I can keep myself safe,” she replied. “I might not know what I’m doing when it comes to magic, but I do when it comes to riding.”

Oliver clenched his jaw, but his shoulders sunk in defeat. “Fine,” he said tightly. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. That was wrong of me. You’re right, I should trust you to take care of yourself. I should have known you wouldn’t try and jump the fence without knowing that you absolutely could. I won’t stop you riding or stop you trying to jump other fences, but I reserve the right to worry about you. I want to protect you but I realize I am being a little…”

“Smothering?” she suggested with a raised eyebrow.

He looked embarrassed. “I was going to say ‘excessive’ but I guess that fits just as well.”

Felicity walked Sahim over so he was side by side with Constantine, and leaned over to kiss the vampire gently, squeezing his hand. “I don’t mind you being protective, Oliver. I do mind you being controlling. I know it’s instinctive for you to want to hold authority over everyone and everything so you can better understand the world, but women of the twenty-first century generally don’t like being lorded over. I’m not asking you to change your nature; I’m just asking you to reel it in slightly.”

Constantine stomped his hooves with a snort, threatening to buck beneath his rider as he grew bored of their conversation and staying still. Oliver instantly shorted his reins and forced the stallion to back up in order to prevent the bucking with a vaguely annoyed look on his face. Sahim, in comparison, was behaving perfectly, and he actually nickered and nipped at Constantine’s mane in admonishment, which Felicity laughed at.

“We should get going before Constantine loses his patience,” the witch said, amused.

“Good idea.” Oliver turned and gave a sharp whistle. Pitch and Charlie came tearing out from behind the stables, tails streaking behind them as they scrambled through the fence and sprinted towards them. “The dogs need a good run this morning. Do you mind if they come with us?”

The dogs didn’t need a run; Oliver wanted the dogs to accompany them so they could guard over them. “It’s okay. They won’t get under the horses’ feet?”

“They’re hunting dogs, so they’re trained to avoid the hooves.” The vampire whistled again and both the dogs jumped to attention. “Pitch, with Felicity,” he ordered, pointing at the witch. The black German Shepherd ran over to her, while the beagle hound remained at Oliver’s side.

Soon the vampire and witch were thundering over the southern fields behind Sept-Tours, away from the village and towards a large forest looming in the distance. The dogs raced out in front of them, scouring the undergrowth joyfully. Although Sahim was smaller than Constantine and had a much shorter stride, the stallion was able to keep pace with the Percheron quite well. They slowed once they reached the trail leading into the woods to a trot so that the horses could gain back some energy and discussed the fact that Sara and Nyssa had apparently taken to texting Oliver daily instead of Felicity, as they thought the vampire was more likely to respond and give them updates - which was probably true, to be honest.

Oliver also explained how the cross country course within the forest had come to be; he and his father had set it up for some healthy competition about a century ago, but over the last couple of decades upkeep of it had been taken up by a local French riding school, who now used the course to train young riders to jump. Since the forest was located in de Reine land, however, they were free to use it whenever they wanted.

The forest opened up in front of them, the trees thinning out into a large, well-lit clearing. Within the clearing, spread out, there were around fifteen cross country jumps made of logs, stumps and tree branches, all various kinds and sizes. There were even two water jumps and an elevation jump, where the horse would have to jump up onto a higher level. Felicity could definitely have fun riding this course. Sahim seemed just as excited, chomping at his bit and resisting the urge to leap from a trot into a gallop. The dogs immediately darted off to inspect each one of the jumps, tails wagging.

“They’ve numbered all the fences,” Oliver told her. “Odd numbers are smaller jumps for beginners and intermediates, even numbers are for advanced jumpers. Take Sahim around the odd number course first - I’d like to watch you jump.”

“You mean you want to make sure I’m not going to be thrown if I try and jump the larger fences,” Felicity rolled her eyes.

“That too,” he said accommodatingly. 

Oliver tied up Constantine to the second jump and sat on top of the logs while Felicity walked Sahim around the entire course to allow him to get a look at all the jumps. Once the stallion had been able to examine them all thoroughly and she’d shortened her stirrups for jumping, Felicity trotted him back to the start. There were eight jumps in the beginner and intermediate course overall and none of them looked particularly difficult.

Felicity and Sahim hopped over all of the jumps comfortably and completed the course within roughly five minutes. Sahim pranced about triumphantly as they headed back towards Oliver, who appeared impressed. Halfway there, Sahim started into a canter and leaped gleefully over fence number 4, a tall angled brush jump. Felicity made no move to stop him as she could sense how confident the horse was beneath her.

“No shimmer,” Oliver called. “You didn’t use magic that time.”

“I didn’t need to!” she shouted back. “The course was easy!”

“Try the harder one then!”

She turned Sahim back towards the course and jumped him over all the even numbered fences. These ones were taller, with some at angles and close together, and included the water jumps and elevation jump. Felicity was a great rider but did have to use a couple of mental commands with some silent urgings to encourage the stallion over a couple of the fences, and at one point, as Sahim was leaping over the water jump, the witch felt a spark within her chest as she instinctively balanced herself. When they cantered back over to Oliver and Constantine, the vampire was observing her with interest.

“You’re glowing,” he told her.

“I had to use magic once or twice to guide him to where I wanted him to go, and to make sure I didn’t fall out of the saddle,” she admitted. “But I actually think I might be getting the hang of this.”

“You certainly seem to have more control over your power than before,” Oliver agreed. “Why don’t you try the entire course now? I’ll time you.” He gave her a wicked grin. “We can make it a competition.”

Felicity laughed. “Now you’re talking.”

She and Sahim managed to finish the fifteen fence course in just over eight minutes.

“Impressive,” Oliver allowed. “My turn, I think.” He mounted Constantine and rode him over to the first fence. “I timed from between your first jump and your last.”

Felicity fished her phone out of her pocket and pulled up a stopwatch on the screen. “Got it.”

Constantine’s size actually gave him a rather big disadvantage, as he wasn’t able to take the corners at much speed, and needed to make wider turns. Oliver was an expert rider and a truly incredible jumper; the way he held himself in the saddle showed how much experience he’d gained over the centuries on horseback. But even the vampire, with all his skills and riding aptitude, struggled to get the huge Percheron over the jumps at speed. They ended up completing the course in ten minutes.

“Looks like I’m the better jumper,” Felicity teased him.

“Hey, it’s not exactly a fair contest,” Oliver argued, his competitive nature getting the better of him. “Constantine’s a very different kind of horse compared to Sahim. If I jumped him, it would be an entirely different story.”

“Then why don’t you?” The witch dismounted the stallion, looping his reins over so she could lead him towards the vampire. “I’ll time you on Sahim and then you can time me on Constantine. Then it’s perfectly fair.”

“No, I don’t want you riding Constantine,” Oliver immediately protested.

The witch smirked. “I bet he would behave better with me.”

“He would still be temperamental as hell.”

“But I could handle him.”

Oliver stared at her intensely for a moment before finally agreeing reluctantly, “If you can prove to me that you can canter him safely and jump him over the smaller fences, then you can take him around the whole course.”

They swapped stallions, the vampire having to give Felicity a leg up so she could clamber onto the Percheron’s back while he vaulted onto Sahim effortlessly. The witch had to adjust to being up so high on Constantine’s back as she pulled in the stirrups.

When the huge stallion shifted beneath her, dancing on his hooves impatiently and tossing her head, she scolded him sternly, _Enough of that, mister. Calm down, please. No funny business._ Constantine flicked his tail and mane in surprise, obviously not expecting to be ordered around mentally, but he quietened down obediently.

“You’re talking to him.”

She turned to see Oliver watching her anxiously. “Just telling him to behave.”

“And he’s listening to you?”

“He seems to be,” she mused, stroking over the horse’s neck. “It’s okay, Oliver. Take Sahim for a ride. Constantine and I will be fine.”

Oliver appeared uncertain, but clucked Sahim into a canter and took on the course. They ended up completing it twenty seconds faster than Felicity and the stallion had, and the smug expression on the vampire’s face made the witch roll her eyes in fond exasperation.

Once Oliver and Sahim were close by again, Felicity dug her heels into Constantine’s sides and began running him through his paces. The Percheron’s movements were much less smooth than Sahim’s but he was solid beneath her, sure in his footing and confident in his stride. She could feel the horse’s muscles bunching in his hindquarters and neck as he cantered in a wide circle around the edge of the clearing. The stallion definitely had stamina and it wasn’t hard for Felicity to imagine Oliver kitted up as a medieval knight, riding into battle upon Constantine’s back.

As they headed back towards Oliver and Sahim, Felicity was surprised to see Moira atop her own horse next to her son, her sharp eyes watching the witch closely while she conversed with the other vampire out of the corner of her mouth. Felicity didn’t want to interrupt their discussion, and seeing as how Oliver hadn’t spoken up to tell her she couldn’t jump Constantine, she swiveled the Percheron around and kicked him into a gallop as they approached the first jump.

She’d anticipated that jumping the huge stallion might be hard, but maneuvering the horse around the course was much more difficult than she thought it would be. Constantine snapped at his bit and yanked at the reins, trying to go in the wrong direction more than once. He kept on jolting into a gallop when she only wanted him in a canter. It was only due to Felicity mentally commanding him to _stop, listen to me and obey my orders_ that she was successfully able to direct him over all the jumps. The whole time, she was aware of the freezing cold gazes of two vampires fixed on her.

Moira and her horse were gone by the time Felicity returned to Oliver, Constantine plodding proudly beneath her. “My time?” she asked, breathless from the effort it took to wrangle the giant stallion.

“You were faster than me,” Oliver told her with a slight grumble. “By around thirty seconds.”

“Ha!” she pointed at him. “That means we tied! We’re equally good jumpers.”

“You shimmered the entire time,” the vampire claimed. “You had the advantage of magic.”

“And you had the advantage of having several hundred years of riding experience,” Felicity countered. “Let’s just call it even and be done with it.” She nodded towards the entrance trail. “Your mother was here?”

“She was riding nearby, heard us and thought she’d check in,” Oliver said with a shrug.

Felicity doubted that, but if the vampire wasn’t telling her the truth now, he was even less likely to if she tried to press him for answers. “What was she talking to you about?”

Oliver’s lips twitched into a smile. “You, actually. She said she’s never seen Constantine behave so well with anybody before. And she commented on your advanced riding ability.”

“She did?” the witch blinked. Moira de Reine had praised her riding skills? That seemed unlikely. But she had the feeling that Oliver wasn’t lying to her.

“She said she’d like to ride with you one day,” Oliver informed her. “Providing you were all right with that, of course.”

“That… sounds great.”

The vampire chuckled under his breath, trotting Sahim over to Constantine’s side so he could lean across the small gap between them and kiss her forehead. “You can try and hide the panic in your voice, Felicity, but remember that I can hear your heart.”

“You’re a walking, talking lie detector.”

“You don’t mind that, do you?” he murmured.

“Might be a pain to keep surprises secret, but at least you’ll keep me honest.”

She caught his arm in her hand as he pulled away, stopping his retreat so she could stretch up and plant her own kiss on his lips. She hummed appreciatively when he twisted in his saddle so he could place his hand on the back of her neck and draw her in for a deeper kiss. Oliver was purring when they broke apart, his eyes almost black.

Giving him a teasing grin, Felicity kicked Constantine into a trot, guiding him towards the path leading back towards Sept-Tours. “Come on. Competition’s over and I want to get back to studying the _Aurora_.”

“I thought we’d be swapping back our horses,” Oliver said, quickly urging Sahim into a canter so he could catch up. He whistled for the dogs, and Pitch and Charlie rushed to follow them, darting ahead.

“Constantine likes me now and he’s less likely to act up with me than you. You said he has a bad bucking habit, but he’s behaving well with me riding him. Maybe he just hates you.”

“Ha ha,” Oliver said flatly.

“Race you back!” she called.

After arriving back at the stables and releasing the horses out into the paddock to graze, Oliver and Felicity headed back to the château. Lunch was waiting for them up in the tower’s study - wine and slices of blue steak for Oliver, and a salad made from lettuce, seared asparagus, tomatoes and smoked beef pastrami for Felicity. Raisa was seriously out-doing herself with all this amazing cooking.

Once she’d finished eating, Felicity stood and brushed herself down, twisting her leg to examine the dried mud coating the back of her breeches. “I need to shower and change clothes.”

“You’re actually delaying your chance to examine the _Aurora_ manuscript?” Oliver asked, amused. He remained seated at the table, his gaze sending snowflakes trailing down the witch’s back as she walked towards the tower staircase. “I’m shocked.” When Felicity shot him an unimpressed look, he promised her, “I’ll have everything ready for you when you come back down. Tea or coffee?”

“Some of Raisa’s tea from last night would be lovely.”

She wasn’t aching as much as she had been after her first time riding Sahim, but Felicity still needed to take some time to massage her calves and soak in the hot water. Refreshed, she returned to Oliver’s study to find the vampire situated near the fireplace and (re-)reading _Origin_. Her laptop was on the table, with a perfectly normal nineteenth-century copy of the Vulgate Bible on top of it, and resting on top of that, the Aurora manuscript. A silver tray with a teapot full of Raisa’s tea, a cup and saucer had been laid out on the other side of the desk.

Lifting up the Bible and waving it in the air, Felicity called out, “Thank you. You remembered.”

Oliver raised his gaze, smiling at her. “I found it downstairs. Apparently the one I have isn't good enough for you.”

“Oliver, I’m absolutely not going to treat a Gutenberg Bible as a reference book.”

The strictness in her voice caused him to chuckle. “You know, I’ve got the Bible committed to memory. If you have a question, you could just ask me," he suggested.

“I'm not using you as a reference book either. I can’t exactly cite you as a source, can I?”

“Suit yourself,” the vampire said with a shrug.

Felicity was soon absorbed in reading and recording her ideas about the manuscript. There was only really one distracting incident when she requested something to hold open down the book's pages while she typed from Oliver. He searched around the study and found two eighteenth-century bronze lion paperweights that he claimed belonged to an old French lord. He wouldn't surrender the two precious objects without her trading a couple of kisses for them. He was finally satisfied when Felicity’s cheeks were flushed and her lips were numb, and the witch found her mind spinning as he sauntered away, entirely too pleased with himself.

_Aurora Consurgens_ was one of the most beautiful alchemical texts Felicity had ever had the fortune of reading, as well as fascinating; it was a great exploration of the chemical reconciliation of opposing natural forces. The text in Oliver's copy was very similar to the copies she’d consulted before in Zurich, Glasgow, and London, but the illustrations were different. Each and every illumination was incredible. The artist, Bourgot Le Noir, had been a true master of her craft.

As Oliver had promised, there were two illuminations that weren't included in any known copy of the _Aurora_ and therefore had never been analyzed by an alchemical historian before. Both of these new images appeared in the final parable, and were devoted to the chemical wedding of gold and silver. The queen dressed in white with emblems of the moon to show her association with silver had been transformed by Bourgot into a stunning, terrifying creature with snakes instead of hair, her face shadowed like a moon eclipsed by the sun.

It was good that Felicity was reasonably fluent in reading Latin, because otherwise, it would have taken her several hours and not minutes to translate the passage alongside the white queen.

_Turn to me with all your heart. Do not refuse me because I am dark and shadowed. The fire of the sun has altered me. The seas have encompassed me. The earth has been corrupted because of my work. Night fell over the earth when I sank into the miry deep, and my substance was hidden. From the depths of the water I cried out to you, and from the depths of the earth I will call to those who pass by me. Watch for me. See me. And if you find another who is like me, I will give him the morning star._

The second unique illumination was located on the next page and accompanied the words spoken by the golden king, symbolized by the Sun. The king was depicted to be lying within a heavy stone sarcophagus, its lid open just enough to reveal the golden body hidden within. His eyes were closed peacefully, and there was a look of hope on his face as if he were dreaming of his release.

_I will rise now and go about the city. In its streets I will seek out a pure woman to marry her face beautiful, her body more beautiful, her raiment most beautiful. She will roll away the stone from the entrance of my tomb and give me the wings of a dove so that I might fly with her to the heavens to live forever and be at rest._

Felicity swallowed, pausing in tying up the translation. The passage reminded her of Oliver's badge from Bethany, and Lazarus's tiny silver coffin. It was common practice for many alchemical texts to contain passages or draw ideas from the Bible, so she reached for the copy the vampire had given her to consult it.

“Mark 16, Psalms 55, and Deuteronomy 32, verse 40,” Oliver said calmly, his voice echoing through the silence.

Felicity blinked, frowning at him. “How did you know what I was reading?”

“Your lips were moving,” he replied, staring fixedly at his computer screen as if he hadn’t just been watching her. “It’s like you’re reading to yourself aloud - but silently.”

Biting her lip, Felicity pulled the Bible with its black and gold cover towards her, opening it to the Gospel of Mark. She scanned Chapter 16. There it was, Mark 16:3. _And they said one to another: Who shall roll us back the stone from the door of the sepulchre?_

“Find it?” Oliver inquired mildly.

“Yep.”

“Great.”

Silence fell throughout the study once more.

Felicity snuck a glance up to him. “Where's the verse about the morning star?”

Oliver didn’t even try to smother his laugh. “Revelation 2, verse 28.”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you testing me?”

“No.”

“Sure.” He snorted, amused.

After three hours of reading tiny, Gothic handwriting and searching for corresponding biblical references, Felicity was more than happy to go out for a walk around Sept-Tours’ grounds when Oliver told her it was time for a break. It was early evening but beginning to get dark as it usually did in European autumns. They hadn’t seen the sun much since they’d arrived at Sept-Tours due to the rather dismal weather, but neither of them minded the cold. Oliver, however, believing that it would take some effort on his part to convince Felicity to take a stroll with him, bribed her by saying there was a particular scientist he’d been friends with in the past.

“Oh, come on, will you please tell me how you met William Harvey?” she pleaded, as they wandered through the rose gardens.

“It's not a very interesting story,” Oliver responded with a chuckle.

She shoved him lightly in the arm. “Maybe not to you. But to this historian, it's the closest I'll get to meeting the man who figured out that the heart is a pump!”

The vampire glanced over at her with a twinkle in his eyes, laughing at her enthusiasm. Felicity leaned into his side, grinning back at him. Oliver definitely seemed more relaxed, and she was surprisingly happy to be out of Oxford for once. Alena and Merlyn's threats, the mystery of Ashmole 782 and even the photos of her parents - they all receded with each hour that passed. She’d been enjoying her time in France, but it was spending time with Oliver that really made her happy. 

As they descended the stone stairs to walk underneath the arches, Oliver seriously emerged from his shell, telling her animatedly about a problem at work that involved one of their new-hire technicians messing up when ordering a batch of DNA primers. He tried to explain why by drawing a DNA sequence in the air, informing her about 5 prime to 3 prime directions and so forth; Felicity just nodded along, even though she barely understood what he was saying. She grinned widely at how the words continued to roll out of Oliver’s mouth, and sighed contently when the vampire put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close.

Suddenly, Oliver froze. Felicity cast him a confused look. Within seconds, the vampire had scooped the witch behind him and was snarling protectively. A man dressed in black had emerged from behind one of the arches, leaning against it with all the elegance of a leopard on the prowl, lying in wait for his prey to stumble into his path.

The man pulled himself gracefully away from the wall strolled toward them casually, his hands in his pockets. The fact that he was a vampire was now confirmed by his pale skin and dark eyes; he was wearing a fully black suit, with a black shirt and tie. This vampire clearly didn't care about appearing like a supernatural creature. His wolfish expression was the only imperfection in his otherwise handsome face. He was physically smaller and slimmer than Oliver, but the power he exuded was undeniable. Ice grew under Felicity’s skin as the vampire’s eyes flitted over her, hungry and curious, before he turned his attention back to Oliver.

“Adrian,” Oliver said, his voice calm and collected, but louder than usual.

The hatred in Adrian’s tone was evident. “Oliver.”

“It's been years.”

Adrian looked thoughtful. “Yes, when was that? In Ferrara? We were both fighting the Pope - I was trying to save Venice, you were trying to save the Templars -”

“I think you must be right.” Oliver nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the other vampire. “If I ever caused offense, Adrian, it was surely too long ago to be of any concern to us now.”

Adrian smirked. “Maybe. But one thing hasn't changed in all these years. Whenever there's a crisis… there's always a de Reine nearby. I’m not here to quarrel with you about our pasts, Oliver. I’m here on official Congregation business.” The strange vampire turned to Felicity, and something avaricious bloomed on his face. The witch swallowed, slipping further behind Oliver, who was still attempting to shield her. “Ah… This must be the witch I've heard so much about.”

“Felicity, go back to the house,” Oliver said sharply.

The sense of urgency in his tone indicated how dangerous this situation was, but Felicity hesitated. She didn’t want to leave him alone. “No, I’m not going anywhere,” she decided, edging out from behind him and taking her place by his side.

“Felicity,” he said again, his voice as keen-edged as a sword. “Go.”

Adrian spotted something over Felicity’s shoulder and smiled. An icy breeze brushed past the witch and Felicity jumped when a cold, hard arm linked through hers.

“Adrian Chase,” Moira said tightly. “What an unexpected visit.”

He bowed formally. “ _Madame_ , it is a pleasure to see you. How did you know I was here?”

“I smelled you,” Moira snapped.

Oliver growled. “ _Maman_ , take Felicity back to the house.”

“Of course, Oliver. We will leave the two of you to talk.” Moira turned, tugging Felicity along with her. Raisa was standing behind them, and immediately, took hold of the witch’s arm to guide her.

Adrian took a threatening step forward. “I think she should stay until I deliver my message.” He inclined his head and fixed his frigid gaze onto Felicity, triggering her to shiver. “Felicity Smoak, you must come before the Congregation for questioning and to hand over the Book of Life.”

Both Moira and Raisa inhaled, as if in shock. Oliver hadn’t told them about Ashmole 782 then.

“You tell the Congregation that I don't have it,” Felicity hissed, yanking her arm out of Raisa’s hold to slip back towards Oliver. “If they want it, they can get it themselves.”

“Then you must come with me and tell us how to,” Adrian said.

Oliver’s lip curled back in a snarl. “Felicity will not be going anywhere with you. Why is the Congregation wasting time paying official visits on the de Reine family when there are vampires leaving bloodless corpses all over Europe for humans to find?”

“It's not forbidden for vampires to feed on humans - though the carelessness is regrettable. As you know, death follows vampires wherever we go.” Adrian shrugged off the brutality, and Felicity couldn’t help but feel sick at this vampire’s casual disregard for frail, warmblooded life. “But any liaison between a vampire and a witch is forbidden.”

“And why are you concerned with whom I spend time?” Felicity cut in fiercely.

Adrian’s head fell back and he laughed. “Merlyn said you were argumentative like your father, but I didn't believe him.”

Felicity felt anger swelling inside of her, flames of fury erupting in her chest as her fingers tingled. Moira and Raisa’s hands on her arms grew fractionally tighter, and Oliver shifted uncomfortably. They could sense her magic.

“Oh, have I made your witch angry, Oliver?” Adrian smirked.

“Say what you came to say and get off our land.”

A bright blue spark burst out of Felicity’s right thumb, sizzling and burning out only once it had landed on the ground and burnt through a small crop of grass in the stone. Oliver twitched in front of her, his growl deepening when Adrian’s eyes widened at the spark.

“She is more fiery than most of her kind, I see,” the vampire observed. “Is that why you're risking everything to keep her with you? Does she amuse you?” Adrian bared his teeth. “Or do you plan to feed on her until you get bored and then discard her, as you have with other warmbloods?”

Felicity swallowed as she watched Oliver’s hand stray to Lazarus's coffin, evident only as a bump under his sweater. He hadn't touched it since they’d arrived at Sept-Tours.

Adrian's keen eyes noticed the gesture, too, and his answering smile was vindictive. “Feeling guilty?”

Furious at the way Adrian was baiting Oliver, more tiny lightning bolts crackled from the witch’s fingertips.

“Felicity, go back to the house with my mother immediately.” Oliver's tone suggested that they would be having a serious, unpleasant talk later about the fact she wasn’t listening to him.

He pushed her slightly in Moira's direction and placed himself even more squarely between Felicity and Adrian. Moira had released the witch, obviously thinking it pointless to try and hold onto her anymore, and the female vampire had her arms crossed over her sturdy body in a striking imitation of her son.

“Not before the witch hears what I have to say.” Adrian lowered his head, spitting out, “Relationships between witches and vampires are forbidden, Felicity Smoak. You must leave this house and no longer associate with Oliver Queen or any of his family. If you don't, the Congregation will take whatever steps are necessary to preserve the Covenant.”

“What’s the Covenant?” Felicity asked warily.

“She doesn’t even know!” Adrian laughed delightedly. “You’ve truly lost your mind, Oliver.”

The witch bristled. “It doesn’t matter. Covenants aren't enforceable. They're voluntary.”

“Are you a lawyer as well as a historian? You modern women with your fine educations are so fascinating.” The expression on Adrian’s face made Felicity think that he actually meant vexing, rather than fascinating. “When the Covenant was sworn, it bound all vampires, daemons, and witches - past, present, and future. This is not a path you can follow or not as you please.”

“You've delivered your warning, Adrian,” Oliver said. “Now leave.”

“That's all I have to say to the witch, but I have more to say to you. You know the consequences of what you’re doing, Oliver. You are refusing to let me carry out Congregation orders.” Adrian scoffed at him in disgust. “Associating with a witch. You know, when Merlyn informed the Congregation of your interest in Felicity Smoak, they thought that it was the manuscript you were after. But it’s not about the book is it?” The vampire spat at Oliver’s feet. Felicity watched in horror as Oliver began vibrating with rage. “It’s about her.”

“Take Felicity back to the house,” Oliver gritted out. “Now.”

Something in her son’s tone must have alarmed before, because this time, Moira did what he asked immediately, and Raisa trailing behind closely. Felicity gasped when she heard a ferocious snarl erupt from Oliver’s throat and then the sound of tearing flesh, followed by a howl of pain that could have only come from Adrian. Oliver had lashed out and attacked him.

“Don't,” Moira hissed when she tried to turn back to look. She shoved Felicity into Raisa’s arms. “Take her up to the keep’s tower. I’ll make sure Oliver doesn’t kill him.”

Because that was apparently a possibility!?

Raisa rushed Felicity inside. Once the front doors were closed, they stopped briefly, so that the vampire could check her over. Raisa touched the witch’s face with her fingertips, drawing them back hastily when they met the warmth of her angry cheeks. “You are brave girl, but what you did was reckless,” she scolded. “You are not a vampire. Do not put yourself at risk by arguing with Adrian or any of his allies. Stay away from them.”

Raisa gave her no time to respond, speeding Felicity through the kitchens, the dining room, the salon, and then into the great hall. Finally she towed her toward the arch that led to the keep's most formidable tower. Felicity protested, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as her calves seized up at the thought of the climb.

“No, we must,” Raisa insisted, yanking at her hand. “Mister Oliver will look for us there.”

Fear and anger propelled her halfway up the stairs, and sheer determination helped her conquer the second half. Lifting her feet from the final tread, Felicity gazed around in awe as she found herself on the castle’s flat roof with a view for miles in every direction. A faint breeze blew her blonde hair back into the witch’s face and stirred the mist around them.

Raisa moved swiftly to a pole that extended another dozen feet into the sky. She raised a forked black banner adorned with a silver ouroboros, the snake holding its shimmering tail in its mouth. Moments later, a similar banner rose over the top of the church tower in the village beyond, and a bell began to toll. Felicity frowned as men and women slowly came out of houses, bars, shops, and offices, their faces turned toward Sept-Tours, where the ancient symbol of eternity and rebirth snapped in the wind.

“The de Reine family's emblem, and a warning to the village to be on their guard,” Raisa explained. “We fly banner only when others are with us. The villagers have grown too accustomed to living among vampires, and though they have nothing to fear from us, we have kept it for times such as this. The world is full of vampires who cannot be trusted, Miss Felicity. Adrian Chase is one of them.”

“You don't need to tell me that. Who the hell is he?”

“One of Mister Oliver's oldest friends,” Raisa murmured. “Which makes him a very dangerous enemy.”

Her eyes were fixed on something in the gardens below. Felicity strode up to her side, looking down. It was hard to see through the encroaching darkness, but there was still enough light in the evening for Felicity to see that Oliver had chased Adrian across the gardens, and they appeared to be fighting. It was very clear who was winning.

There was a blur of black and gray movement, and the strange vampire hurtled backward towards a chestnut tree. A loud crack carried across the grounds. Adrian struggled to his feet but Oliver was in front of him before he was standing properly again, taking hold of the vampire’s throat and throwing him up against the tree trunk. Felicity watched with her heart in her throat as Oliver snarled at Adrian for a good minute before releasing him - only to catch him in a vicious chokehold. It was shockingly violent.

Felicity could almost hear Oliver’s ferocious voice echoing through her head. _One twitch and I will rip your head off! You've delivered your message and you've been answered. Now, leave!_

“Well done, Mister Oliver,” Raisa muttered proudly, as Adrian retreated, stumbling away.

Felicity looked over her shoulder toward the stairs. “Where’s Moira?” She’d just realized that the other female vampire hadn’t been anywhere near Oliver and Adrian’s conflict.

“In the hall. Just in case.”

“Would Adrian really come up here after me?” She hesitated then questioned quietly, “Would he hurt me?”

Moira appeared in the stairwell, striding confidently to join them. There was a speck of blood on her blouse; Felicity managed to stop herself from gagging. “That would be all too easy, my dear. Adrian would play with you first. He always plays with his prey. And he loves an audience.”

Felicity swallowed hard. “I'm capable of taking care of myself.”

Moira narrowed her eyes at her. “You are, if you have as much power as Oliver believes. Witches are very good at protecting themselves, I've found, with a little effort and a drop of courage.”

“I still don’t understand what this Covenant Adrian was talking about is,” she shook her head.

“The Congregation, a council of nine - three from each order of daemons, witches, and vampires, was established during the Crusades to keep us from being exposed to the humans. We were careless and became too involved in their politics and other forms of insanity. Ambition, pride, and greedy creatures who were never content with their lot in life and always wanted more - they drove us to the creation of the Covenant.” She sighed bitterly. “When we became involved in human affairs, they grew suspicious of our intelligence. When we mixed with one another, we were too conspicuous.”

“By 'mixing,' you don't mean dinners and dancing,” Felicity whispered.

“No dinners, no dancing - and certainly no holding hands, sharing beds or kissing,” Moira said pointedly. “And what comes after kissing was forbidden as well. The Covenant forbids all interspecies relationships.”

Felicity stared at her in disbelief. “That’s insane. Why would anybody agree to that?”

“There were more of us, and we'd become accustomed to taking whatever we wanted, no matter the cost,” Raisa explained. “The Congregation decided that if creatures from different species mated, it would upset the balance of power. Which is why the Covenant also forbids positions of politics or religion.”

“If any creature breaks the Covenant, it is the responsibility of the Congregation to see that the misconduct is stopped and the oath is upheld,” Moira added.

“And if two creatures break the Covenant?”

“To my knowledge, it has never happened,” Moira said grimly. “It is a very good thing, therefore, that the two of you have not done so.”

Felicity remembered Oliver’s insistence that they take their relationship slow last night. She’d thought that perhaps his hesitance was due to being unsure of his feelings. But it wasn't Felicity whom Oliver was uncertain of, or his emotions towards her. Oliver had wanted to know how far he could go before the Congregation would intervene. The answer had come quickly. They weren't going to let them get very far at all.

The witch gritted her teeth in anger. Had no one complained as her and Oliver’s relationship developed, the vampire might never have told her about the Covenant. And his silence would have had implications for Felicity’s relationship with her own family, and with his. She’d been thinking that Moira, Sara, and Nyssa were bigots to think that vampires and witches couldn’t interact and be friends, but instead, they were living up to a promise made long ago - which was less understandable, but somehow more excusable.

“Your son needs to stop keeping secrets from me.” Felicity’s temper rose, the breeze whipping at her legs increasing in strength. A witchwind was starting to erupt from her due to her fury. “And you should worry less about the Congregation and more about what I'm going to do when I see him again.”

Moira snorted. “You won't get the chance to do much before he takes you to task for questioning his authority in front of Adrian.”

“I'm not under Oliver's authority.”

Moira and Raisa exchanged glances.

“You have a great deal to learn about vampires,” Raisa said sadly.

“And you have a great deal to learn about me,” Moira sniffed. “And so does the Congregation.” Felicity flinched when the vampire took her firmly by the shoulders, her fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. “You must understand, this is not a game, Felicity. Oliver would willingly turn his back on creatures he has known for centuries to protect your right to be whatever you imagine you want to be in your fleeting life. I'm begging you not to let him do it. They will kill him if he persists.”

“Oliver is his own man, Moira,” Felicity said coldly. “I don't tell him what to do.”

Moira drew back. “No, but you have the power to send him away. Tell him you refuse to break the Covenant for him, for his sake - or that you feel nothing more for him than curiosity. Tell him you don’t care for him as he does for you. If you love him, you'll know what to say.”

“It is over,” Raisa called, from where she was standing near the edge and watching over Oliver and Adrian.

The sun was setting. A shadowed horse and rider streaked out of the stables and cleared the paddock fence before thundering into the forest. The two hunting dogs were baying, barking and streaking out ahead of them. Oliver was on top of Constantine, on the hunt with Charlie and Pitch. He was making sure that Adrian was truly leaving.

“It’ll be a couple of hours before he returns,” Moira said. “We should head inside out of the cold.”

Felicity didn’t want to go inside without Oliver, but she knew that the two female vampires weren’t going to let her stay outside waiting for him as the freezing night winds swept in. Squeezing her eyes closed and clenching her fists, the witch slowly turned and followed Moira and Raisa back down the steps.

_Come back to me, Oliver,_ she prayed.

_Come home._


	26. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the lovely, kind comments last chapter... i really appreciate all your support, guys xx
> 
> i feel kind of bad now
> 
> because i'm just... shoving angst at you in this chapter

It was midnight by the time Oliver came back.

Felicity, Moira, and Raisa had been waiting in the salon since he'd ridden off on Constantine in the early afternoon to chase off Adrian. Felicity had brought the _Aurora_ manuscript down from Oliver’s tower to distract herself, but had struggled to concentrate. Her thoughts continued to stray back towards the subject of Oliver - her vampire with many secrets, a complicated past, and frightening enemies.

Felicity jumped when a door slammed overhead.

Moira exhaled, relieved. “He's back. He’ll go to his father's office first, as he always does when he’s troubled. It will be another hour until we see him.”

Oliver’s beautiful mother had sat next to Felicity on the couch and stared at the fire as they’d waited for her son to return, while Felicity had wrung her hands in her lap, refusing all the drinks and food Raisa placed in front of her. They hadn’t eaten dinner at all and Felicity was starving, but her hollowness had nothing to do with hunger.

Felicity felt shattered and exhausted, surrounded by the broken pieces of her formerly ordered life. This strange new world of menacing vampires and threatening witches terrified her. Her exposure to it had left her raw. The silver chain connecting her and Oliver’s souls had never felt so fragile, despite its strong, shining links.

After what had to be at least another hour, Oliver entered the salon, clean and dressed in fresh clothes. His darkened eyes sought Felicity out immediately, their cold touch flickering over the witch as he checked that she wasn’t hurt. He appeared to momentarily soften in relief, exhaling slowly. But that was the last hint of comforting familiarity that Felicity saw in him.

The vampire who had walked in was not the Oliver who Felicity knew and cared about. He was not the enigmatic and charming man who had slid into her life with a smirk of a smile and invitations to dinner. Nor was he the biochemist, absorbed in his work and tortured by the mystery of creatures’ existences. And there was no sign whatsoever of the Oliver who had swung Felicity up into his arms and danced and laughed and kissed her with such passionate intensity over the last couple of days.

Felicity felt like she was staring at a stranger rather than the vampire she’d come to know and begun to understand over the last several weeks. This Oliver was cold and impassive. He held himself tall and straight, and he seemed much older than she remembered, a combination of weariness and stiffness reflecting his fifteen hundred years of age.

“He’s gone,” Oliver said.

_“They’re gone.”_

A log broke in the fireplace with a loud crack. The sparks caught Felicity’s eye, the ashes glowing blood orange as they fell into the bottom of the grate where they smoldered.

_Felicity’s fingers caught the strap of her school backpack from her shoulder, and she dropped her lunch box on the floor of their family home in Starling City with the same clatter as her father, when he dropped his briefcase by the door._

_“I'm home,” she announced brightly, her voice was high and happy as young children’s often were. “Oh, Hi Uncle Quentin! I didn’t know you were coming around. Did you bring cookies?”_

_Quentin Lance, one of her mother’s oldest friends, was sitting at the table with his daughter Sara, one of Felicity’s best friends despite her being several years older and nearly a teenager. Sara was crying. Quentin’s face was pale and tear tracks were visible against the pure white of his cheeks._

The white overwhelmed the other colors, flashing out and becoming metallic silver.

_Chain mail clung to a familiar, muscular body. A knight, storming into a medieval hall of some kind. The torment on his face was staggering. Oliver._

_“I refuse to partake in this any longer. I cannot do it. Release me, I beg of you.”_

_“You have no choice in the matter of your freedom, my son.”_

_“If you were to command me to take up a sword for you, I would do so. But to become your sword is too great a burden for me to bear.”_

_His fingers tore at a black tunic with a silver cross on the front, rending it at the shoulders. He flung it at someone's feet, turned, and strode away._

Felicity blinked, startled. The visions were gone, vanishing from her mind within seconds and replaced by the warm surroundings of the salon at Sept-Tours, but she was shaken by what she’d just seen. As with the witchwind, there had been no warning to one of her powers erupting from within her and she’d been swept up by images of the past without having the chance to reject them. Her mother had been a powerful seer - Felicity had to wonder whether or not Donna Smoak's visions had come on so suddenly and with such clarity. She’d felt like she was watching a movie in her head, rather than glancing back into events from decades ago.

The witch swallowed and glanced around the room to check the sudden oncoming of this new power of hers hadn’t attracted attention, but the only vampire who seemed to have noticed something was wrong was Raisa, who peered at Felicity with concern.

“There's nothing to worry about tonight,” Oliver continued lowly, running his fingers through his hair. “I tailed Adrian as far as Darhk’s territory. He won’t be returning.”

Raisa handed him a glass of wine, and plunked yet another cup of tea next to Felicity. It sat on the table next to the other two cups she’d brought for the witch, untouched. Felicity could only stand and watch Oliver as he drank his wine as if he was a man dying of thirst - or a vampire desperate for blood. Remembering how she’d been told vampires craved the hunt and reaction of prey to predator, Felicity observed him carefully. Oliver had gone on a hunt for another vampire tonight - a predator chasing a predator. A wolf fending off a coyote.

As Felicity continued to watch him, the vampire’s eyes returned to hers, but he deliberately looked away as he swallowed his last mouthful of wine, placing the empty glass down on the table.

“So,” Felicity said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen, “Should we expect more visits from the Congregation?”

Oliver's mouth tightened. “No.”

It was a one-word answer, but at least it was the word Felicity wanted to hear. “How do you know that?”

Oliver’s eyes flashed, the blue gone and replaced by an alarming black. Over the past week or so, Felicity had a respite from the vampire's sudden mood changes; she’d almost forgotten how frustrating they could be. “There won’t be any more visits from the Congregation because we aren't going to break the Covenant.” He turned to his mother. “We should keep the standard flying. The village should know to be on its guard.”

Moira nodded and much to Felicity’s irritation, appeared relieved by her son’s decision. “Of course.”

“So you’re just… giving in?” Felicity whispered.

Oliver shot her such a frigid look that the witch flinched instinctively. “Adrian’s visit was a diplomatic mission - this time. The next one will not be. We're going to abide by the Congregation's rules. You will remain here at Sept-Tours under the protection of the de Reines, but we will obey the Covenant. If we stop aggravating them, they'll turn their attention to more important matters.”

Felicity couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You want me to play dead? And you'll give up your work and Ashmole 782? I don't believe that.” Standing from the couch, she strode towards the door. She was too angry and upset to think straight and she didn’t want to argue with Oliver like this.

But the vampire lunged forwards and grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. His grasp was tight and by no means gentle. “Sit down, Felicity,” he ordered. His voice was as rough as his touch. “We cannot stand up to the Congregation. We’d be opening up old animosities that would spiral out of control and risk exposing us to humans. I won’t let that happen. You mustn't be under the Congregation's scrutiny. You have no control over your magic and no understanding of your relationship to Ashmole 782.” Felicity gasped in faint pain as Oliver dragged her back to the couch and pushed her down onto the cushions, his grip punishing. He’d never treated her so forcefully before. “This family is not a democracy, especially not at a time like this. When I tell you to do something, you do it, without hesitation or question. Understood?” Oliver's tone indicated that the discussion was over, and he angled his back to her as he picked up his wine glass which Raisa had re-filled, sipping at it.

“Or what?” Felicity challenged. She was deliberately provoking him, but his icy, stilted behavior scared her.

Oliver went still. He slowly put down his wine, and the crystal captured the light from the fire, reflecting off it. Felicity felt herself falling into another vision again, this time into a pool of water with light glimmering on the surface, turning it into a rippling mirror - before it transformed into a teardrop trailing down a pale cheek.

_Quentin’s eyes were red and swollen. He looked devastated._

_“What is it?” Felicity said, fear gripping her stomach. Her school bag toppled over, sending her books and stationary scattering over the floor. “Uncle Quentin, what's happened?”_

_Quentin shook his head. “Felicity…” he started shakily._

_“Is it Mommy and Daddy?”_

_Sara wiped her eyes and pushed off her chair, running away up the staircase._

The thudding of Felicity’s twelve-year-old best friend’s feet on the wooden staircase turned into the crashing sound of a door flying open, banging against the door violently.

_“Maman, what’s happened?” Oliver asked, his eyes wild as his fingers brushed away a tiny, bloodstained tear from his mother’s face._

_“Witches. They’ve captured your father,” Moira said, her voice breaking with a sob._

As the vision faded, Felicity frantically searched for Oliver, hoping his presence would relieve her lingering disorientation and focus her on the present. But as soon as their glances met, the vampire stalked forward and towered over her. There was none of the usual comfort associated with his closeness to her.

“You are here under my protection and command, Felicity. You _will_ do what I say. And I say we will _not_ be breaking the Covenant.”

The witch’s anger flared. Her fingers twitched with small bursts of electricity, and she could feel the beginnings of a witchwind stirring at her feet. “So that's it?” she demanded. “We're going to abide by an ancient, narrow-minded agreement made almost a thousand years ago.”

“Yes,” Oliver snapped.

Felicity shook her head vehemently. “No. We are _bound_ together. My magic started coming out when I first met you -”

“You didn’t even _know_ me three weeks ago,” Oliver snarled. Felicity took a startled step back in the face of his rage. “See? You’re scared of me - and rightly so. At Sept-Tours, you may be protected from Malcolm Merlyn, Felicity, but I've told you before that you aren't safe around vampires. No warmblood is. Ever. You continue to have these romantic ideas of what it is to be a vampire, but despite my best efforts to curb it, I will always have a taste for blood.”

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. “You've killed humans. I know that, Oliver. You're a vampire, and you've lived for hundreds of years. Do you think I imagined you survived on nothing but bagged, donated blood and animals?”

She saw Moira and Raisa inhale sharply and quickly look over at Oliver for his reaction. Apparently she’d said something significant.

“Saying you know I've killed humans and understanding what that means are two different things, Felicity,” Oliver growled, that dark glint in his eyes again as he leaned over her, trying to intimidate her. He raised a trembling hand to grasp his silver coffin pendant, and moved away from her with swift, impatient steps.

“I know who you are.”

He whipped back around with a snarl, making Felicity jump. “You don’t know me! You have no idea what I’m capable of.” He curled his lip. “You don't even know yourself.”

Oliver began pacing around the salon, restless, his forefinger rubbing against his thumb in some sort of anxious tick. This worried Felicity less than the fact that Moira and Raisa had moved closer, eyeing Oliver cautiously as if they were expecting him to lash out at her, and needed to remain close to stop him.

Trying to reassure him, Felicity said soothingly, “We’ll figure this out. Give us some time.”

He jerked his head. “There's nothing to figure out. You have too much undisciplined power. It's like a drug - a highly addictive, dangerous drug that other creatures are desperate to share. You'll never be safe so long as a witch or vampire is near you. And that includes me.”

“You won’t hurt me, Oliver.”

Before she could even blink, the vampire was looming over her, a deep threatening rumble coming from his chest. He was trying to scare her - scare her away from him, and into submission. But Felicity wasn’t so easily frightened. Even when Oliver slammed his arms down either side of her, trapping her against the couch as he leaned in close and snarled in her face, she didn’t break eye contact with him.

“I'm an apex predator, Felicity.” He purred it with the deep seductiveness of a lover. His enticing scent of sea breeze, cedarwood, and cacao washed over her, but the cedarwood was intense and spicy, like cloves burning the inside of her nose. “I have to hunt and kill to survive. And for the last couple of weeks, you have been my prey, whether you know it or not, whether I _want it_ or not. I have the natural instincts of a ruthless killer and nothing is ever going to change that.”

Felicity held her breath and forced herself to still her shaking as Oliver dragged her to her feet, gently took hold of her chin and then turned her face away with a savage flick of his wrist, exposing her neck to him. She swallowed nervously as she felt his cold gaze sweep down across her throat. She believed Oliver wouldn’t hurt her, and she was sure he wouldn’t let his thirst overwhelm him, but she was wary of what point he was trying to prove. She knew he wanted to frighten her off for some reason, but Felicity was sure that she was in no real danger - not as she’d been with Adrian.

“Oliver,” Moira said slowly, her voice flat. She’d taken a step towards them. “Put Felicity down.”

“She thinks she knows me, _Maman_ ,” he growled, his cold breath tickling the witch’s skin. “But Felicity doesn't know what it's like when the craving for a warmblood tightens your stomach so much that you’re certain you’ll go insane if you don’t feed. She doesn't know how much we want to feel the blood of another heart pulsing through our veins. Or how difficult it is for me to stand here, so close, and not taste her.”

“Now is not the time to teach her,” Moira said sharply. “Put her down.”

Oliver ignored his mother. Felicity remained perfectly frozen as the vampire’s grip shifted from her chin so he could curl his fingers around her neck. His thumb stroked against her throat’s pulse point. “You know, Felicity, it's not just that I could kill you outright by feeding on you, and draining you of blood,” he murmured. His black eyes were mesmerizing. “I could feed on you slowly if I wanted to, force you to become my own personal donor. I could take your blood and then let it replenish, only to begin drinking from you again the next day. And repeat, over and over and over…”

Felicity had had enough. Oliver’s scare tactics had gone on long enough and she was done letting him try and terrify her. She trusted him, despite all his threats. “Stop it," Felicity hissed. Oliver’s eyes flickered in surprise at her boldness. “Just _stop_. Why are you being like this?”

Oliver’s sudden disappearance from in front of her caused her to fall off-balance, his grasp vanishing. Felicity stumbled to the floor, shivering as adrenaline flooded through her body and left her feeling as if she needed to run. By the time the witch felt the impact of her knees against the ground, Oliver was across the room, his back to her and his head bowed.

Felicity breathed heavily, staring at the pattern on the rug beneath her hands. The swirl of colors, too many to distinguish, started to snake in coils before her eyes. The sharp colors transformed into leaves dancing against the sky - green, orange, crimson and gold.

_“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Quentin was whispering, his voice strained with emotion as he knelt down in front of Felicity so he could be at her height. “Yeah, it’s your mom and dad. They're… they’re dead. They’ve been killed. They're gone, honey.”_

Felicity dragged her eyes from the carpet to the vampire standing with his back to her.

_“No… that can’t be… no, Quentin, no!” she cried, beginning to weep. She fell into his arms. “They can’t be dead, my mom and dad can’t be dead! I need my mom and dad, I NEED THEM! THEY CAN’T BE DEAD!”_

“No,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Oliver jolted. He turned towards her, frowning. There was a hint of concern in his eyes as he peered down at her, the first genuinely kind emotion he’d expressed that evening. The lethal predator was gone for the moment. “Felicity?”

_“Where is he?” Oliver demanded, shaking with anger as he listened to his mother explain about his father’s capture and abduction. “Where are the witches holding him?”_

_“One of the camps,” Moira answered. Her gaze was dead, her nimble fingers ripping a beautiful handkerchief to shreds. It was stained red with her tears of blood. “Germany - Poland - we can’t be certain. They’ll kill him, Oliver. But not before they break him first.”_

“Oliver.”

“I know, I can smell it too.”

**He's yours** , a strange voice whispered in Felicity’s head. **You mustn't let him go.**

“I know,” she murmured.

“What do you know, Felicity?” Oliver took a step toward her.

Raisa shot to the witch’s side, shielding her. “Leave her,” she warned. “Miss Felicity is not in this world. She’s wrapped in second sight’s threads. She must come back to us on her own.”

But how could Felicity return to them when she didn’t even know where she was? She was nowhere, caught between the horror that was Oliver’s father and Moira’s husband being tortured by witches, the terrible ache of losing her parents, and the certain knowledge that soon Oliver, too, might be gone from her life, just like her mother and father.

**You will lose yourself in him, just as he has already lost himself in you. You will find yourselves, in each other. But you must be careful. Do not dive in too fast or far when you do not know yet how to slow your fall** , the strange voice continued.

“It's too late for that.” Felicity struggled to her feet dazedly. “Much too late.”

“What's too late?” Oliver questioned.

“I've fallen in love with you.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“You can't have,” the vampire replied, appearing dumbstruck. “It's too soon.”

Felicity held her head up high. “I don’t care. I love you, and I'm not going to stop.”

Oliver actually looked a little panicked. “You are not in love with me.”

“I decide who I love, and how, and when. Stop telling me what to do, Oliver. My ideas about vampires may be romantic, but your attitude towards women need a major overhaul.”

Before he could respond, Oliver’s phone began to vibrate on the table. He swore a phrase in Occitan that must have been truly awe-inspiring and ferocious, because even Raisa looked shocked. He reached down and snatched it up, answering hastily.

“What is it?” he said, his eyes fixed on Felicity.

There were faint murmurs on the other end of the line, that were too low for the witch to hear. Raisa and Moira, who could hear what was being said due to their enhanced vampire senses, exchanged worried glances.

Oliver’s expression darkened. “When? Did they take anything?” His voice was dripping with fury. “Thank god. Was there damage?”

Something had happened in Oxford while they were gone. It sounded like a robbery of some kind. Felicity bit her lip; she hoped it wasn't the Old Lodge or his rooms at All Souls. The voice on the other end of the phone continued to speak, and as it did so, Oliver passed a hand over his eyes, looking tired and annoyed.

“And what else?" he asked, his voice rising. There was another long silence. The vampire wheeled away and walked to the fireplace, his right hand splayed flat against the mantel. “So much for diplomacy. I'll be there in a few hours. Can you pick me up?”

They were going back to Oxford?

“Fine. I'll call before I land. And, Roy? Find out who else besides Malcolm Merlyn and Adrian Chase are members of the Congregation. Contact Slade if you have to. But only if your searches come up with nothing.” Oliver stood silently for a good moment or so after the line went dead, one hand clenched as if he were resisting the urge to punch the stone mantel. “That was Roy. Someone broke into the lab. I need to go back to Oxford.”

“Is everything all right? Were Roy and Dinah there?” Moira asked.

“Whoever it was who broke in got into the lab but didn't make it through the security controls on our computers, and didn’t manage to open any of our secure specimen cabinets. I need to talk to the university officials about it.”

“Who were they?” Felicity asked warily.

“Roy isn't sure.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. That was odd, given a vampire's preternaturally sharp sense of smell. “Was it humans?”

“No.” Oliver didn’t say anything else.

“I'll get my things.” She turned toward the stairs.

“You aren't coming. You're staying here.”

Felicity halted. Slowly turning around, she retorted fiercely, “Stop making decisions for me! Leaving me isn't the answer to anything, Oliver. I _love you_. Tell me how you feel. Forget the Covenant, forget the Congregation. How do _you_ feel?”

Oliver wilted, all of his anger and bitterness seeming to drain out of him, leaving him looking strangely sorrowful. “You know how I feel about you,” he said, his voice tender.

“No, I don't. _Say it_.”

Staring back at her, Oliver struggled to find words to respond with. Instead, he ignored her completely and turned to his mother, requesting quietly, “Guard her with your life.”

Moira inclined her head. “Yes, Oliver.”

They spoke in rapid Occitan for a minute or two and then Oliver had a short conversation with Raisa in Russian. Felicity hated the fact they’d chosen to talk in languages that she couldn’t understand, especially when she caught them sneaking quick looks towards her.

Without any warning, Oliver turned on his heel and walked toward the door into the corridor, bending down to pick up his briefcase which was lying against the wall. Felicity’s heart seized upon seeing it; she could just tell it had his laptop and belongings in it. Oliver had been planning to leave even before Roy’s phone call about the break-in. The vampire gave Felicity one last long look of snowflakes and frost before vanishing.

He didn’t kiss her, or hug her, or touch her.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

As if she meant _nothing_ to him.

“Let him go,” Moira said softly, her hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

Felicity tried to swallow the tears, but they spilled out. After three slow steps toward the door, her feet began to run, tears streaming down her face. Moira and Raisa didn’t try to stop her. She burst through the front doors into the cold, damp night air, sprinting down to the driveway. Clouds half obscured the moon but the half that was still visible reflected brightly down onto the ground, casting an eerie silver glow through the black. But despite the moon, darkness pressed in on Felicity from every direction, and the one creature who kept it at bay was leaving her, taking the light with him.

Pausing by the top of the steps leading down to where they’d parked the car, Felicity panted for oxygen as she gazed down at Oliver, who was standing by the Tesla they had arrived in. He tensed up as she approached. The witch flinched when the vampire’s fist pounded once into the car's roof. Oliver had never used his strength on anything bigger than an oyster shell when he was around her, and the dent he'd left in the metal was alarmingly deep.

Oliver hung his head, his distraught features gleaming in the dim light. He climbed into the car and the door closed with a dull thud behind him. The Tesla’s heavy tires crunched across the gravel as Oliver pulled away and out of the gates.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Felicity staggered down the stairs, trying to shout out for him to stop, but her voice caught in her throat.

The Tesla's rear lights disappeared below the hill.

With the vampire gone, the witch folded over at the waist, braced her hands on her knees and gave in to the tears. As they fell onto the gravel, the teardrops swelled up to the size of golfballs. Rain began to pour from above, so heavy and intense that soon waves of water were lapping at her feet, forming a miniature ocean across Sept-Tours’ driveway.

Witchwater.

Sheets of water swept down from Felicity’s head and shoulders. It was uncontrollable and the witch had no idea how to stop it; she was too overwhelmed by emotions to think properly. When Felicity opened her mouth to take a breath because the water streaming down her face was blocking her nose, water gushed out in a torrent that tasted of the sea.

She looked up, her lungs constricting at the liquid that seemed to be erupting from within her and making her feel as if she was drowning. The rain wasn’t falling down anymore - it was rising up, forming a watery tunnel around Felicity’s body. Through a film of moisture, Felicity could just manage to see Moira and Raisa standing off to the side, watching her. Raisa’s face was grim with concern. Moira’s lips were moving, but the roar of a hundred seashells around Felicity made it impossible to hear her.

Felicity closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into her arms, drawing blood and hoping that the pain would focus her, and help the water stop. It didn't work. The witchwater was carrying her away into an abyss along with her grief and fondest memories of Oliver. The reminder that he’d rejected her and left her behind triggered even more water to cascade from the witch’s fingertips.

As the water continued to drown her from the inside out, Felicity’s control and consciousness slipped further.

Adrian's sudden appearance and the threats from the Congregation had frightened her more than she’d been willing to admit. Oliver was gone, after Felicity had vowed to fight for him against enemies she couldn't identify, didn't understand and remained vulnerable against. It was clear to her now that Oliver's past was not composed simply of colluding with famous scientists, wine, and books, nor had it unfolded solely within the limits of his loyal vampire family.

Oliver was right - she didn’t really know him at all. The last couple of weeks spent with him had allowed Felicity a glimpse into the tender heart hidden beneath his cold, mysterious vampire exterior. But now she felt like that heart was beyond her reach. The silver chain between them was strained and the links were cracking.

She was too exhausted to remain upright any longer. Felicity collapsed to her knees, the sharp gravel biting into her legs. The witchwater was enveloping her. A strange sense of exhilaration accompanied her fatigue. Felicity felt as if she was poised between mortality and something elemental and vastly powerful. If she surrendered to the undertow, there would be no more Felicity Smoak - just the sheer, immense energy of water, free of her body, misery, and pain.

It was so tempting.

“I'm sorry, Oliver.”

Darkness washed over her.


	27. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we back beech
> 
> felicity learns a lot about oliver's past this chapter!!!!! and deals with some of her own, but that will continue into the next couple
> 
> thank you for all your support xx

Felicity awoke groggily to find herself submerged in hot water in Oliver’s bathtub, the room full of steam around her. Her mind was slow to respond to her to return to consciousness, black spots appearing in her vision, although her disorientation was likely due to exhaustion. Stripped down to her undergarments, the shock of the water’s scalding heat on her frigid skin was extreme, turning it pink.

“Good, you’ve woken up,” Moira said. She was holding Felicity’s hair back from her face. To the witch’s surprise, the vampire actually appeared relieved. Had Moira been worried about her? “We did not want to pour water over your head while you were unconscious. We have to get you warm. You were on the verge of hypothermia by the time you fainted.”

Raisa continued to add hot water into the bath as Felicity’s cold body cooled it down, and then used a tin pitcher from under the window to pour the water over her head and shoulders. Moira rose from the chair she’d drawn up to the side of the tub to sit next to her, disappearing from the bathroom, only to return a couple of seconds later with a towel, which she wrapped around Felicity’s head and hair.

“How are you feeling?” Moira asked. “You’ve been unconscious for an hour.”

“Tired,” Felicity muttered. She shivered at the memory of all the water coming out of her, her core still feeling frozen. “Was that witchwater?”

Moira sighed. “Yes. It’s been centuries, though, since any witch has summoned it like that. Most witches today are not powerful enough to draw on witchwater as you did. They can make waves on ponds and cause rain when there are clouds. They do not become the water.”

Felicity had almost turned completely into water. The fact that it had seemed so appealing at the time was chilling. “Please don’t tell Oliver,” she responded.

Nodding, Moira agreed carefully, “I won’t tell Oliver, if that is what you wish.”

“You’ve already told somebody,” Felicity realized. “Who? Dinah? Roy?” The slight twitch of Moira’s lips told her it was the latter. “Why did you tell Roy?”

“Roy is a doctor. We were concerned about hypothermia and the development of pneumonia. You cannot remember what happened after you passed out, obviously, but you were vomiting up water for the better part of half an hour,” Moira explained. “We needed medical advice from him and considering the… uniqueness, of this situation, we decided it would be better to be forthcoming with the more particular details, in case they could drastically affect your health.”

That made sense. “Is Roy going to tell Oliver?”

Moira and Raisa exchanged exasperated looks.

“Why are you so adamant about Mister Oliver not knowing?” Raisa questioned.

Felicity shrugged, peering down at her pruny fingers through the water. She didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to put her feelings into words. But she didn’t want Oliver turning straight back around after arriving at Oxford because she’d lost control of her magic - not when he obviously didn’t want to be near her right now.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He’d left her. Felicity knew that the only reason he’d gone without her was that he didn’t want to place her in more danger, but she also suspected that there was something more, holding him back. Oliver believed that he was a monster, that much was clear, and he believed that he didn’t deserve to be loved. So when Felicity had told him that she loved him - he’d frozen. He’d known that she cared about him immensely, but he hadn’t known that she was in love with him. The vampire had immediately refused to believe her. 

An ache settled in her chest as she remembered how he’d brushed off her confession of love so quickly, so easily, telling her that it couldn’t be true. Oliver had to have known she wasn’t lying; his senses would have told him she was telling the truth. Felicity knew in her soul that he felt the same way. Everything that had happened between them over the last couple of days suggested that he felt as strongly for her as she did for him; his softness and affection, his kisses and fond attention. Why was he always so hasty to push her away whenever she got close to him? It had to be an issue of trust. Maybe Oliver didn’t trust her. That just made Felicity’s heart sink even more.

“Vampires don’t tell each other’s tales,” Moira said, breaking her out of her thoughts. “But Roy has never known when to keep his mouth shut. Oliver will find out about your witchwater one way or another, Felicity.” She checked the temperature of the witch’s cheeks and forehead with the back of her hand. “You are warm enough now, I think. Let’s get you out of the water and in front of the fire.”

Once Felicity had been helped out of the bathtub, Raisa and Moira bundled her into towels fresh from the fireside that smelled faintly of wood smoke. They gave her some privacy to dress herself in the warmest clothes Raisa could find for her. As she pulled on two pairs of socks over her freezing feet, Raisa dried her hair with the rough strokes of another towel, raking her fingers through the strands before twisting the witch’s locks into a loose bun against her scalp.

Moira was waiting with Oliver’s Henley in hand when they made their way out into the tower bedroom. There was an unreadable expression on the vampire’s face as she handed the garment over to Felicity, but the witch thought that she perhaps caught a glimpse of resignation on her face. Finally dressed warmly, Felicity settled down on the couch in front of the fire. She stared mindlessly into the flames while Moira dealt with the wet towels. Raisa disappeared without a word into the lower regions of the château, only to return with a tray of tiny sandwiches and a steaming pot of her herbal tea.

“You will eat. Now.” It was a command, not a request.

Felicity picked up one of the sandwiches and nibbled around the edges.

Raisa's eyes narrowed. “I said eat.”

The bread tasted like sawdust, but Felicity’s stomach rumbled from hunger, which prompted her to continue eating. After she’d swallowed down three of the sandwiches, Raisa thrust a cup of tea into her hands. The hot liquid slid down Felicity’s throat, carrying away the water's salty vestiges.

“You look much better,” Moira observed.

Felicity snorted. “Thanks.”

The vampire shot her a stern look. “You are lucky to recover so quickly. You had no control over that witchwater and it could have killed you.”

Nodding, she sipped from her tea again with a faint shudder. “I know. Why is the power coming out now? First, it was an elemental spell, then witchwind, then animal communication, then visions, and now witchwater, too.”

“What kind of visions?” Moira asked, her curiosity evident.

“Didn't Oliver tell you about my DNA? It has all these magical markers in it. The tests warned I might develop second sight and visions, and they've begun.”

“I was aware that you had abilities of a seer,” Moira said. “You had a nightmare several days ago that Oliver suspected was prophetic. But Oliver told me nothing about your DNA results beyond that you had the predisposition for visions. I was asking about what kind of visions you were having. As I understand, there are different types.”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. They’re difficult to interpret.” Felicity hesitated, before questioning shyly, “How did you learn to control them?”

Moira exhaled and looked away, shaking her head. “Oliver should not have told you that I had visions before I became a vampire.”

“Were you a witch?”

"Heavens no. Oliver thinks I might have been a daemon, but I'm certain I was an ordinary human. They have their visionaries, as well. It's not only creatures who are blessed and cursed in that way.”

“Did you ever manage to control your second sight and anticipate it?”

The glance Moira shot her was sympathetic. “It will get easier. There are subtle warning signs you will learn. Raisa helped me, and we will help you too.”

Felicity blinked. That was the only piece of information she’d been offered about Raisa's past. Not for the first time, she wondered how old these two women were, and how exactly they’d met and stayed together over the centuries.

Raisa nodded, topping up the witch’s teacup. “ _Da_ , it is easier if you let the visions move through you without fighting them.”

Thinking back to the salon, Felicity admitted, “I'm too shocked to fight when they come on.”

“Shock is your body's way of resisting,” Moira said. “You must try to relax.”

“It's difficult to relax when I’m seeing knights in armor and scenes of Oliver’s past mixed with memories from my own.” Felicity’s jaw cracked with a yawn. She was exhausted.

“You are too tired to think about this now.” Moira rose to her feet. “You need to sleep, otherwise you might get ill. We managed to stave off the hypothermia tonight but with your luck, you’ll catch the flu by sunrise if you don’t rest.”

“I'm not ready to sleep.” She smothered another yawn with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to have nightmares and she was afraid to fall asleep without Oliver watching over her, really, but she wasn’t going to confess to that.

Moira eyed the witch speculatively, but then a smirk of a smile appeared on her lips as she offered, “If you get into bed, I will tell you how I made Oliver into a vampire.”

Well, that was much too tempting to resist. Felicity eagerly clambered up onto the bed and under the duvet while Moira pulled up a chair and Raisa busied herself with lighting more candles and drawing the curtains.

"Where should I start?” Moira hummed under her breath, running her fingertips over the top of one of the candles’ flames. “I suppose I can’t just begin with the part when I entered Oliver’s life - no, we have to start with the beginning of his. Oliver was born here in the village in the early sixth century. I remember him as a baby, you know. His father and mother came when Robert decided to build on this land back when Clovis was king. That's the only reason the village is here - it was where the farmers and craftsmen who built the church and castle lived.”

Felicity curled up, leaning back against the pillows with her knees folded up close to her chest. “Why did your husband pick this spot?”

“Clovis promised him the land in hopes it would encourage Robert to fight against the king's rivals. My husband was always playing both sides against the middle.” Moira smiled wistfully. "Very few people caught him at it, though.” Clearing her throat, she got back to her story, continuing, “As I said before, Oliver was born in the village. He was always such a bright child - so curious and mischievous. He drove his father crazy, following him everywhere and picking up tools and sticks and stones. Children learned their trades early then, but Oliver was precocious. By the time he could hold a hatchet without injuring himself, he was put to work. His father was a carpenter you see, and a stonemason on the side. Oliver was destined to follow in his footsteps.”

An eight-year-old Oliver with gangly legs, a crop of short blond hair and bright blue eyes ran around the hills in Felicity’s imagination.

Moira smiled. “Yes,” she said, agreeing with the witch’s unspoken thoughts. “Oliver was such a beautiful child. A handsome young man as well. Oliver was unusually tall for the time, though not as tall as he became once he was a vampire. He had a wicked sense of humor. He was always pretending that something had gone wrong or that instructions had not been given to him regarding this roof beam or that foundation. Robert never failed to believe the tall tales Oliver told him. It was so amusing. Over time, Robert came to think of him as a son, and I grew very fond of him also. We kept him in work, hiring him for repairs on the keep and towers whenever we could.” The grin was wiped off her face, however, soon after. “Oliver's first father died when he was in his late teens, and his first mother had been dead for years by then. He was alone, and we worried about him constantly. He continued to work as a carpenter and stonemason, but money was short, so he trained in archery and hunted in the woods to sell the meat for extra pennies. We were concerned that he was going to remain alone forever.”

Moira paused.

“And then?” Felicity prompted.

“And then he met Sandra.” Moira looked over at her flatly. “You cannot have imagined that he had no other women interested in him over the centuries.” It was a statement, not a question. Raisa shot Moira a scathing look but kept quiet.

“Of course not,” Felicity replied calmly, although her heart felt unexpectedly heavy.

“Sandra was new to the village, a servant to one of the master masons Robert had brought in from Ravenna to construct the first church.”

A pale, beautiful woman appeared in Felicity’s thoughts. Moira's description of Sandra fit her perfectly. “She had a sweet smile, didn't she?”

Moira's eyes widened. “Yes, she did.”

“I can see her now, in my mind.”

“A vision?” Raisa asked sharply.

Moira hushed her, before turning back to Felicity and continuing her story. “Sometimes Sandra seemed so delicate that I feared she would break when drawing water from the well or picking vegetables. My Oliver was drawn to that delicacy, I suppose. He has always liked fragile things." Moira's eyes flicked over Felicity and the witch tried not to bristle. She wasn’t fragile at all. “They married when Oliver turned twenty-five and could support a family.”

“How old was Sandra?”

“She was twenty-one. They were a beautiful couple, of course. They were very much in love, and the marriage was a happy one. But they struggled to have children. Sandra had miscarriage after miscarriage. Oliver blamed himself.” Moira shook her head sadly. “Finally, after years of trying and failing, Sandra became pregnant, and it was sustained. It was 528. Oliver began to look happy, as if he dared to hope this baby would survive. And it did. Connor was born in the autumn and was baptized in the unfinished church that Oliver was helping to build. It was a hard birth for Sandra. The midwife said that Connor would be the last child she bore. For Oliver, though, Connor was enough. And he was so like his father, with his blonde curls and dimples and blue eyes.”

Felicity could tell that this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending. “What happened to Sandra and Connor?” she asked softly. They were only two years from Oliver's transformation into a vampire. Something horrible must have happened, or he would never have let Moira exchange his life for a new one.

"Oliver and Sandra watched their son grow and thrive. Oliver had mastered his work in stone and had become a highly skilled archer. He was in high demand among the lords from here to Paris, for stone work and the rich venison he sold from his hunting. But then fever came to the village in 530. Oliver survived. Sandra and Connor did not. The year before had been strange, with very little sunshine, and the winter was cold. When spring came, the sickness came too, and carried Sandra and Connor away.”

“Didn't the villagers wonder why you and Robert remained healthy?”

“Of course. But there were more explanations then than there would be today. It was easier to think God was angry with the village or that the castle was cursed, than to think that the _manjasang_ were living among them.”

“Manjasang?”

“It is the old tongue's word for vampire - 'blood eater.' There were those who suspected the truth and spread rumors. But Robert had promised the village his protection against any raiders, and we made it a point never to feed close to home. They let us stay, and were thankful to have us,” Moira explained.

“What did Oliver do after Sandra and Connor were gone?”

“Oliver was inconsolable. His grief was immense. He stopped eating and looked like a skeleton. After a couple of months, the village came to us for help. Robert and I took him food and made him eat and walked with him until he wasn't so restless. When he could not sleep, we went to church and prayed for Sandra and Connors’ souls. Oliver was very religious in those days.”

“He’s Catholic,” Felicity confirmed.

“Yes. He’s less devout now, but still attends church and confession occasionally. We talked about heaven and hell, and Oliver worried about where Sandra and Connors’ souls were and if he would ever be able to find them again. By autumn, he seemed more hopeful. But the winter was difficult. People were hungry, and the sickness continued. Death was everywhere. At the beginning of the second week in June, Oliver was found on the floor of the church a mere day after he completed building it, his legs and spine broken.” Moira was staring down at her hands, which were trembling in her lap. “Some of the masons said he'd slipped. Others said he was standing on the scaffolding one moment and gone the next. They thought Oliver had jumped and were already talking about how he could not be buried in the church because it was suicide. I could not let him die fearing he might not be saved from hell. He was so worried about being with Sandra and Connor - how could he go to his death wondering if he would be separated from them for all eternity?”

“You did the right thing.”

“Did I?” Moira shook her head. “I’ve never been sure. Robert told me it was my decision to turn him or not. I had made other vampires with my blood, and I would make others after him. But Oliver was different. I loved him as a son, and I felt as if the gods were giving me a chance to make him my child by blood.”

“Did Oliver fight you?” Felicity asked, unable to stop herself.

“No, he was barely alive and in immense pain. We told everyone to leave, saying we would fetch a priest. We didn't, of course. Robert and I explained to Oliver we could make him live forever, without pain, without suffering.” She swallowed, and Felicity was stunned to see there were tears of blood in her eyes. “Oliver told us decades later that he thought we were John the Baptist and the Blessed Mother coming to take him to heaven, to be with his wife and child. When I offered him my blood, he thought I was the priest offering him last rites.”

Silence fell across the room for a moment, the only sounds being Felicity’s quiet breathing and the crackle of logs in the fireplace. The witch wanted to know about the particulars of how Moira had made Oliver into a vampire, but she was too afraid to ask just in case it was something that vampires didn't talk about. Perhaps it was too private, or too painful.

But in the end, she didn’t have to ask. Moira told her, appearing thoughtful: “He took my blood so easily, as if he was dying of thirst. Oliver was not one of those humans who turn their face from the scent or sight. I opened my wrist with my own teeth and told him my blood would heal him. He drank without fear.”

“And afterward?” Felicity whispered.

“He was… difficult,” Moira answered carefully. “All newly born vampires are strong and full of hunger, but Oliver was almost impossible to control. His need to feed was endless. Robert and I had to hunt all day for weeks to satisfy him. We wiped out entire deer herds and the local Eurasian lynx population. And his body changed more than we expected. We all get taller, finer, stronger, but Oliver developed into a formidable creature - a warrior. Robert was incredibly strong, but even Oliver was a handful for him. When Oliver gets thirsty, he becomes incredibly angry. Even I would be terrified to face him if he were craving blood.”

Felicity forced herself not to shrink from Moira’s revelation about the connection between Oliver's hunger and rage. Instead, the witch kept her eyes fixed on his mother, not closing herself off for an instant against the knowledge of him. She wanted to know everything she possibly could that could help her understand Oliver’s reactions and actions. It was easy to figure out now that this was what Oliver was most scared of - craving Felicity’s blood so much that he would lose himself to fury. Oliver probably thought that if she learned what a creature of instinct and violence he truly was, she was be repulsed; instead, Felicity was intrigued.

“What calmed him down?” she asked curiously.

“Robert took him hunting, once we thought that Oliver would no longer kill everything in his path,” Moira explained. “The hunt stimulated his mind, and the chase engaged his body. He soon started to crave the hunt more than the blood, which is a good sign in young vampires. It meant he was no longer a thoughtless predator and he was rational once again. After that, it was only a matter of time before his conscience returned and he began to think before he killed. Then all we had to fear were his black periods, when he felt the loss of Sandra and Connor again and turned to humans to dull his thirst. Oliver has his depressive episodes from time to time, and it’s hard to break him out of them.”

“Does anything help Oliver while he’s feeling depressed?”

“Well, back when he was grieving Sandra and Connor, Oliver would often leave France and travel, to distract himself. He partook in small skirmishes and wandered through war-torn countries in the hope that the suffering and death surrounding him would perhaps provide solace from his own trauma.” Moira looked away, her eyes black and gaze solemn. “Sometimes, he vanished without warning and didn’t tell me where he was going, or what he was planning to do. When that happened, Robert forbade me to follow or to ask questions when he returned. I don’t like to imagine what my son ended up doing. Although he had developed a regard for the lives of warmbloods and learned how to morally weigh one against another when deciding on whom to feed from, Oliver never seemed to care about himself. He thought of himself as broken and damaged, and thought he was worth nothing and therefore his feelings were unimportant. My son finds it difficult to cope with strong emotions. Occasionally he stops trying and loses himself in whatever he’s experiencing. Other times, he ignores his feelings, of which the only consequence is him feeling worse.”

“He always seems so controlled,” Felicity whispered, musing aloud. “It's hard to imagine him like that.”

“Oliver feels very deeply. Anger, regret, and sadness have a permanent place in his heart. But it’s grief, desire, and compassion that have always had the most control over him. It is a blessing as well as a burden to love so much that you can hurt so badly when love is gone.”

There was the faint hint of a threat in Moira's voice. Felicity raised her chin in defiance, her fingers tingling as she twisted them into the bedsheets. “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure my love never leaves him,” she replied tightly.

Moira scoffed, and suddenly her warm and motherly demeanor from before had disappeared. “And how exactly will you do that? Will you become a vampire, then, and join us in our hunting?” She laughed, but the sound was harsh and sullen. “No doubt that's what Adrian suggested to Oliver. One simple bite, the draining of your veins, the exchange of his blood for yours. The Congregation would have no grounds to intrude on your business then.”

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked numbly.

Moira stood, pushing away from the bed with a curl of a snarl on her lips. “If you want to be with Oliver, then the solution is to become one of us and put him - and yourself - out of danger. Witch and vampire relationships are forbidden by the Covenant. Same species relationships are not. The witches may want to keep you as their own, but they cannot object to your relationship if you are a vampire, too.”

Felicity stared at her, horror making her throat dry as she swallowed. “Is that why Oliver left me behind? Did the Congregation order him to make me a vampire?” Another secret that Oliver was keeping. If she were a vampire, there would be no prohibitions looming over them and no reason to fear the Congregation. Felicity contemplated the idea with surprisingly little panic or fear.

A low rumble started in Raisa's throat, from where she was seated across the room and folding Felicity’s clothes. “Oliver would never make you a _manjasang_ ,” she said scornfully, her eyes snapping with fury.

“No, he wouldn’t.” Moira's voice was softly malicious. Maybe her son wouldn’t turn Felicity into a vampire, but it was obvious to the witch that she would do it if requested. 

Raisa must have been thinking the same thing, because she settled a glare on Moira that could curdle milk. “I promised him. Felicity must stay as she is - a witch.”

Moira bared her teeth, looking annoyed, but she nodded. “Yes, he made me promise the same,” she said clippedly.

“Did you also promise not to tell me what really happened in Oxford?” Because Felicity knew she didn’t know the whole story.

“You will have to ask Oliver when he returns,” Moira responded.

Felicity narrowed her eyes. So Oliver had made his mother promise not to tell her about what had happened… but there had to be a loophole somewhere. Thinking carefully for a moment, she finally questioned, “Can you tell me why it matters that it was a creature who tried to break into the lab, rather than a human?:

There was a beat of silence and then Moira released a soft sound, shooting her as appraising, impressed look. “Clever. I did not promise Oliver to remain silent about appropriate rules of conduct. The laboratory counts as part of Oliver’s territory, and it would be unacceptable for any other creature to intrude without invitation. We must hope it was a mischievous daemon who does not realize the seriousness of what they have done. Oliver might forgive that.”

“He has always forgiven daemons,” Raisa muttered darkly.

“What if it wasn't a daemon?” Felicity pressed.

“Well, if it was a vampire, it represents a terrible insult. A vampire does not cross into another vampire's house or land without permission. Oliver might forgive a vampire if nothing was taken and nobody was harmed. But it is more likely he would demand some form of retribution.”

“And if it was a witch?” Felicity asked quietly. She suspected it might have been Merlyn, Alena, or one of their coven members.

Moira sighed. “For a witch to do such a thing would be an act of aggression. No apology would be adequate.”

Alarm bells sounded in Felicity’s head. She flung the covers aside and swung her legs out of bed, rushing across the room to try and find her phone. “The break-in was meant to provoke Oliver. Is that why he wouldn't take me to Oxford with him? Is he in danger?”

Moira caught her by her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. “Of course he is in danger, Felicity,” she said sharply. “But he will do what he can to put an end to this. Now get back into bed please.”

“I should be there,” Felicity protested. She didn’t want Oliver facing Merlyn or any other witches alone.

“You would be nothing but a distraction.” Moira shepherded her back towards the bed, and didn’t let go of the witch’s arm until she was underneath the covers again. “You will stay here, safe, as he told you.”

“Don't I get a say in this?”

“No,” Moira and Raisa both said simultaneously.

She punched her fist down into her pillow, frustrated. She wanted to be with Oliver, unsafe. “Why not?”

Moira regarded her cautiously. “You really do have a lot to learn about vampires,” she said, her voice sounding mildly regretful.

“Will you teach me?”

“Maybe. If you sleep first.”

Felicity rolled her eyes but nodded, turning over to get comfortable. The two vampires began flitting about the bedroom to blow out candles and place a screen in front of the fire, so they could leave it burning overnight without the light of the flames disturbing the witch’s sleep.

“Thank you for telling me about Oliver,” she murmured, when Moira delivered a glass of water to the bedside table for her.

“You’re welcome. He will not be happy with me when he finds out what I’ve told you, but as you are searching to court him… it’s necessary you know parts of his past.” The vampire gently placed a hand on Felicity’s side, drawing the covers up over her further. “Now please try and get some sleep.”

“Moira.” Felicity swallowed when she paused halfway across the room to the stairs, peering back at her questioningly. “Why… why are you being so nice to me?”

“Oliver cares for you,” Moira answered simply. “He asked me to watch over you while he is in Oxford. I am a woman of my word.”

“How long do you think Oliver will be gone?” she whispered.

Moira pursed her lips. “As long as he has to be. Once his business is dealt with, he will return here swiftly. He does not intend to abandon you, Felicity.”

“I feel pretty abandoned.”

Moira and Raisa exchanged looks. Felicity couldn’t tell what emotions they were passing between them. “Even if you don’t have Oliver, you have us,” Moira finally said. “And we will look after you. Goodnight. Call for Raisa or I if you need anything.”


	28. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again beeches
> 
> so first off, im gonna need to go on hiatus again. yep. im disappointig you all again lmao. i have important exams coming up after easter that i need to focus on, so unfortunately im not gonna be able to update consistently. sorry!!!
> 
> both oliver POV and felicity POV this chapter xx
> 
> **warning** : this chapter contains vampire hunting and killing of animals in lengthy and detailed description. please read with discretion.

Roy and Dinah were waiting in the black Jaguar on the tarmac off the side of the airport when the private de Reine plane from Lyon touched down, Oliver emerging from the doors with a solemn expression. It was the early hours of the morning, and although the sky was shockingly clear and the weather was bright, Oliver’s mood was anything but. He’d been fighting his natural instincts to ask the plane to turn around so he could return to Felicity for hours, and could already feel his irritability building up. He hated being separated from the witch. But there was no chance she could have come back to Oxford with him; not with Merlyn on the prowl and the Congregation watching them in case they broke the Covenant.

Oliver narrowed his eyes as the other two vampires hopped out of the car at his approach, watching him with wary yet curious eyes. “Tell me,” he commanded.

“The lab’s secured,” Dinah said immediately. “We’ve accounted for everything.”

Nodding, Oliver pushed past her to slide into the Jaguar’s passenger seat, seeing as Roy was already hastily climbing into the driver’s side. “It was witches?” Roy had told him over the phone that he’d managed to catch their scents before building security had to be called.

Roy pulled the Jaguar away back onto the road, heading towards Oxford. “Oh yeah, their scent was everywhere. The CCTV cameras shut down and none of our security protocols were tripped - they probably used magic to do that. They didn’t manage to get into any of the specimen fridges. They tried hacking the computers.”

“They failed, of course,” Dinah continued. “Our servers are impenetrable.”

Oliver stared out the window at the rolling English countryside, a deep ache in his heart. “I need to see for myself.”

Fortunately, the two vampires seemed to realize he wasn’t in the mood for small talk, as the rest of the journey back to Oxford was spent in silence. Once they arrived at the labs, several stuttering security officials greeted Oliver, apologizing profusely for their ‘lapse in vigilance’ that had led to the break-in and offering help if they needed it. Oliver brushed past all of them with dismissive, short responses, anxious to see what damage had been done.

When he entered the laboratory, the first thing that hit him was the fact that there didn’t appear to be any obvious disturbances. “And you’re absolutely positive nothing was stolen? Felicity’s bloods and DNA samples?”

“They’re secure,” Dinah responded.

“You think this was about Felicity?” Roy asked, confused.

“Of course this is about Felicity.”

As Oliver walked further in, the nauseatingly strong scent of roses, strawberries, and cinnamon swamped his senses. He bared his teeth with a growl when he recognized it. Dinah and Roy caught the sound, staring at him questioningly.

“You know who it was,” Dinah said. It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded. It was Alena, but - “This is Malcolm Merlyn’s doing.” He was the one who had ordered the break-in. Oliver couldn’t imagine Alena had decided to do this on her own.

Dinah huffed. “It’s because of _you_ , Oliver. We’ve been able to run this lab for years without being noticed, flying beneath the radar of humans and creatures. Now everything we’re working towards has been jeopardised because you’ve decided to _mate_ with a _witch_.”

“That’s enough, Dinah.”

“Don’t even begin to deny it,” she retorted. “I’m the only one of us who’s mated before. I know the signs.”

“Adrian knows them too,” Roy muttered, striding past them both to jump up and perch on one of the laboratory benches.

“Adrian can go to hell. And how do _you_ know he made an appearance at Sept-Tours?”

“Moira phoned me. I have to say, I was surprised to hear you were still coming after what happened with Felicity.”

Oliver stiffened, whipping around as panic sliced through him. “What do you mean, what happened to Felicity?”

Roy blinked in surprise. “You mean she didn’t call to tell you? Felicity conjured a witchwater after you left last night. She had barely any control and almost lost herself to the magic. Before Moira and Raisa knew what was going on, they had an unconscious, freezing cold witch on their hands. They called me because they needed advice on how to stop the hypothermia setting in. Felicity’s fine now, but she had a rough night.”

The work surface cracked underneath Oliver’s hands as he gripped it with white fingers, shaking with anger and fear as he tried to comprehend what Roy was telling him. Felicity had discovered a new magical power and needed his support, but because he hadn’t been there, she could have died.

“Why didn’t my mother call _me?_ ” he snarled under his breath.

“Probably because she knew that you would react like this,” Dinah replied dryly.

“And likely because Felicity asked her not to,” Roy added.

Oliver forced himself to loosen his grasp on the worktop, grimacing when he saw the indents and fissures his fingers had caused. “You’re certain Felicity’s all right?”

“Just - call her yourself,” Roy suggested.

The vampire took a seat on one of the lab stools and swiftly pulled out his phone, thumbing down to his contact favorites and quickly finding his mother’s number. Felicity had a bad habit of always carrying her phone around with her but never actually picking it. It rang a couple of times before Moira picked up with a sharp, “Oui?”

“I thought I should let you know I’ve arrived in Oxford. I’m with Roy and Dinah now at the lab.”

“Good. I am glad that you are there and safe,” his mother replied.

“How’s Felicity?”

“She is fine. She’s eating breakfast right now.”

Oliver waited a couple of seconds to see if Moira was going to say anything else, but when she didn’t, he gritted his teeth furiously. He had no doubt that Felicity had specifically asked his mother not to tell him about her witchwater last night. “I’d like to speak with her if possible, please.”

There was a pause in which Moira must have been debating whether or not to hand the phone over to the witch considering Oliver’s sour tone, but eventually, Oliver heard her say, “Felicity, Oliver would like to speak with you.”

There was the sound of the phone changing between hands.

“... Oliver?”

The vampire’s eyes slammed closed at the hesitance and anxiety in Felicity’s voice. “Felicity.”

“Yes?”

She sounded okay. There wasn’t any sort of tremor or trace of pain in her voice. Well - no trace of physical pain. He instantly relaxed. Emitting a soft sound of relief, Oliver ran his hand over his face and turned away from Dinah and Roy, who were staring at him knowingly. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Your mother and Raisa are taking good care of me,” Felicity replied.

She mentioned nothing about her newly developed magical power. That just confirmed his suspicion that Felicity was the one who didn’t want him to know about what had happened to her after he’d left Sept-Tours, not his family. He was lucky that Roy had such a bad habit of gossiping about other people’s business, otherwise Oliver wouldn’t have found out at all.

“You're tired.” The distance between them was making him anxious, and he was tuned into every nuance of their conversation. He could hear a slight dip in the witch’s tone that usually accompanied her voice when she hadn’t slept well.

“I am. I… I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Felicity admitted quietly. “I don’t like us being separated.”

And didn’t that just tug at his heartstrings and fill him with guilt. “We’ll be together again soon,” he reassured her gently.

His guilt only grew when he heard a very faint sniffle on the other end of the line. Felicity’s voice was remarkably calm and flat, however, when she questioned, “Have you been to the lab?”

“I'm there now,” he told her. “I’m with Roy and Dinah. We’re going to check over everything carefully and I’m going to look into who did this.”

“You should check the Old Lodge too.”

“That’s a good idea.” Oliver glanced behind him at the other two vampires. They were exchanging glances; they obviously hadn’t thought about the fact that Oliver’s house could also be a target for witch burglars and thieves. He frowned. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check in on his rooms at All Souls, and Felicity’s rooms at New College as well. “Is there anything you would like me to bring back to Sept-Tours for you?”

“Not really. Maybe some more clothes.”

The silence stretched out until it became uncomfortable.

“Do you want to speak to your mother?” Felicity asked.

She didn’t want to talk to him anymore. It was understandable, but Oliver couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “Yes, thank you. I’m happy you’re okay. Goodbye, Felicity.”

“Bye.”

The phone swapped hands again.

“You should take Felicity out riding this afternoon,” Oliver said, once he was certain it was his mother on the other end of the line rather than the witch. “She has an excess adrenaline disorder and she’ll become ill and have panic attacks if she doesn’t exercise. She’ll probably go running around the grounds in the morning, but she enjoys riding more.”

“I will make sure she gets out of the house,” his mother promised.

“Thank you.”

“ _Adieu_ , Oliver.”

Roy and Dinah were watching him with knowing smirks on their faces as Oliver hung up and tucked his phone away. Glaring at them, the vampire moved around the lab to take note of where Alena’s scent was strongest. To his annoyance and fury, he discovered that she’d been hanging around the worktop specimen fridge where Felicity’s bloods were being stored - and she’d actually touched the fridge, trying to get it open but failing due to the secure lock. The witches had been after Felicity’s DNA samples and broken into Oliver’s labs to find them.

He was going to teach Alena exactly why it was dangerous to invade a vampire’s territory. Whether she’d survive his lesson was the only unknown factor.

Dinah tried to step in front of Oliver as he began storming to the doors, and it was a testament to her bravery that she didn’t flinch back in submission when he released a ferocious rumble at her obstruction. “Where are you going?”

Oliver flashed her a threatening look, the rumble deepening into a fearsome snarl. He already knew his eyes had darkened, the predator slipping forwards. Rational thought and his conscience were retreating as sheer instinct to protect his territory - _and his mate_ \- took over.

Roy immediately rushed forward and grabbed Dinah’s arm, yanking her back and away from his father. “Don’t stand in his way. He’s preparing for a hunt.”

“A hunt?” Dinah repeated. “Oliver, no. You can’t go there! If you attack a witch, the Oxford covens will retaliate - Malcolm Merlyn will want your head on a spike, and he won’t be afraid to get the Congregation involved.”

“There’s no point trying to stop him, Dinah,” Roy said quietly, his hand on her shoulder. Oliver was glad his son was holding her off; he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d able to prevent himself from lunging at her if she attempted to interrupt his hunt. “Let him go.”

Clearly unhappy, the female vampire finally shuffled aside so that the doorway was revealed. Oliver strode out, a black gleam in his eyes as he fixated on Alena’s scent. He would track down that witch, even if it took him days.

“Call Slade,” he faintly heard Dinah say, her voice drifting down the corridor, but he honestly didn’t care at this point. “It’s time we told him what’s really going on.”

* * *

Felicity had just finished breakfast about twenty minutes after Oliver’s phone call and was setting up to spend the rest of the morning studying the Aurora when her own cell phone began to ring across the other side of Oliver’s study. She hesitated on getting up to grab it. She had a feeling it was going to be Sara and Nyssa calling her, since it was unlikely to be any of the vampires in Oxford she knew. Raisa and Moira had left her alone for some peace and quiet, but the witch knew they would insist on her answering the call.

Sighing, Felicity eventually stood to collect her phone. She winced when she saw that she’d missed about half a dozen called from her two best friends since placing her phone on silent last night. “Hello, Sara.”

“I've been calling both you and Oliver for more than eight hours,” Sara snapped. “What’s going on?”

“There's nothing wrong,” Felicity tried to reassure her. “I’m fine. I’m not in any trouble.”

“Are you with Oliver?” Sara asked.

“I’m -”

She didn’t give Felicity enough time to respond. “Because being with Oliver is what got you into trouble in the first place.”

Moira appeared in the tower doorway, pausing at the top of the stairs with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown. Felicity forced a smile towards her before taking a seat at the desk, muttering down the line, “Listen, I can't talk right now. I’ll call you later.”

Sara took a shuddering breath. “Look, Felicity, there are a few things you need to know before you decide to throw in your lot with a vampire.”

The witch’s temper flared. Felicity’s spare hand curled into a tight fist on the tabletop as she tried to constrain her frustration. “Really? You think now is the time to tell me about the Covenant? You don't by any chance know the witches other than Malcolm Merlyn who are among the current members of the Congregation, do you? I have a few things I'd like to say to them.”

“You turned your back on your power, Felicity, and refused to talk about magic,” Sara said defensively. “The Covenant wasn't relevant to your life and neither was the Congregation.”

Felicity released a bitter laugh, sparks flying from her fingertips from her anger. “Yeah, justify it any way you want, Sara. Blame it on your father when he was raising the two of us, if you want. The fact is that after Mom and Dad were killed, and after you and Nyssa gained guardianship of me when the two of you came of age, you should have told me - not just hinted at something in mysterious half-truths. But it's too late now.” She swallowed, glancing back at Moira, who appeared to be waiting for her. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

There a pause and then Sara asked, “Is Oliver there? Can I talk to him? He hasn’t been picking up his phone either.”

“Oliver’s not here right now, Sara,” Felicity told her. “He’s gone back to Oxford. I’ll call you later in the evening, alright? Bye.” She hung up without giving her friend the chance to reply. “Is everything okay?” she asked Moira, once she’d tucked her phone away.

“Yes,” Moira answered simply. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

The witch shrugged, opening up the _Aurora_ and beginning to flick through the pages to find the illumination she’d been working on. “No.”

“Good. Get your riding clothes on. Oliver made me promise to take you outside. He said it would keep you from getting sick.”

“You don't have to, Moira,” Felicity protested. “The witchwater completely depleted my adrenaline supply, if that's what you’re worried about.”

“Oliver must have told you how alluring the smell of panic is to a vampire,” Moira quirked an eyebrow.

“Roy told me, actually. Well - he told me what it tastes like. What does it smell like?”

Moira hummed thoughtfully. “Mostly like how it tastes. Maybe a bit more exotic. Muskier, with powerful spices. I was never particularly attracted to it. I prefer the kill to the hunt. But Oliver enjoys the chase, so finds the scent of adrenalin appealing. Nevertheless, you should still work to keep your levels low to stop yourself from getting ill, or having panic attacks around Raisa and me.”

Felicity shook her head and focused back on the manuscript. “You don’t need to take me riding. I'm not having as many panic attacks these days.”

Moira crossed the room to stand next to her, peering down the book. “Why do you think they have gone away?” she asked curiously.

Closing the manuscript up once she realized that Oliver’s mother wasn’t going to lose this battle, Felicity admitted, “I honestly don't know.”

“You have been like this for a long time?”

“Since I was seven.”

“What happened then?”

“My parents were murdered,” Felicity replied shortly.

“These were the pictures you received - the ones that caused Oliver to bring you to Sept-Tours.” When the witch nodded in response, Moira's mouth flattened into a familiar, hard line. “ _Connards_.”

There were certainly worse things to call the witches, but ‘assholes’ did the job pretty well. 

“Well, panic or no panic, I’m taking you out riding as Oliver wanted,” Moira continued. “Get changed. I will wait down here for you. Don’t take too long.”

Felicity’s riding clothes were folded neatly in one of the drawers, courtesy of Raisa, though her boots, helmet, and vest were in the stables where she’d left them after last riding with Oliver. She returned back downstairs after dressing in her breeches, a t-shirt, and Oliver’s Henley, as it made her feel close to him despite their current separation. If Moira was annoyed, angered or upset by her choice of sweater, she said nothing about it. They traipsed down to the stables together, where the silver buckskin Sahim and blanket appaloosa Nadra were tacked up in the paddock. Moira watched on carefully as Felicity pulled on her boots and then put on her riding vest and helmet. The vampire, of course, wore nothing more protective than a velvet coat.

Vaulting over the fence into the paddock, Felicity began checking over Sahim’s feet as she always did before riding him, apologizing to both of the horses that she didn’t have treats for them today. Sahim nickered softly and ran his nose over her hair and neck as she examined his shoes.

“Raisa and I have already seen to this,” Moira said, looking bored as she vaulted up effortlessly onto Nadra’s back. Judging by her seat, Moira was an even better rider than her son.

“I don't ride horses I haven't checked myself.” Satisfied that Sahim’s hooves, bridle, and saddle were all fine, Felicity clambered up onto him, taking a few minutes to adjust her reins and stirrups to appropriate lengths.

“Robert never did either.” Moira's voice held a note of grudging respect.

Felicity took a gamble and murmured, “You and Oliver hardly talk about him.”

Moira’s eyes flashed dark, but to the witch’s utter astonishment, she said quietly, “You must know by now that he’s dead. The Nazis caught him fighting for the French Resistance.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes. In the vision she’d had of Moira, she'd said Oliver's father was captured by witches in a camp, somewhere in Germany or Poland. “Nazis or witches?” she asked warily.

The vampire looked shocked. “Did Oliver tell you?”

“No. I saw you in one of my visions yesterday. You were crying.”

Moira took a moment to compose herself before telling her, “Witches aligned with the Nazis killed my husband. The pain is recent, and sharp, but it will fade in time. For years after he died, I hunted only in Argentina and Germany, killing the witches who were responsible for his suffering. It kept me from going insane. I think I would have lost my mind and gone feral had I not focused on avenging his death.”

“Moira, I'm so sorry.” The apology felt inadequate, but Felicity meant it sincerely.

Oliver's mother must have heard the genuineness in her voice, because she offered the witch a small smile. “It’s not your fault. You were not there.” Nodding her head, she changed the subject by suggesting, “Gallop Sahim around. I need to make sure you won't fall off and kill yourself.”

“Show a little faith, Moira,” Felicity laughed. “You saw me jumping Constantine only a couple of days ago so you know I can ride decently.”

“You can ride well,” the vampire agreed. “But you are tired and still physically weak from the witchwater. Do not be offended - it’s a simple fact,” she added, when Felicity bristled at being called weak. “I need to make sure you capable of racing if we are going to continue with what I have planned for today.”

“What have you got planned?” Felicity asked suspiciously.

Moira quirked an eyebrow. “I will tell you once you have proven to me you can race your horse.”

Sighing, the witch nodded. _Don't let me fall at all today, and the next time we go riding, I’ll bring you more apples_ , she mentally told Sahim. The stallion’s ears shot forward, and he nickered gently, tossing his head. They galloped at a quick but graceful pace around the paddock three times before the witch and Sahim came to a stop in front of Oliver's mother and Nadra.

“Satisfied?” Felicity questioned.

“Yes,” Moira confirmed. She wheeled Nadra around and jumped her over the fence. “Come along.”

Sahim leaped over the gate effortlessly, and the witch cantered him across the field so they could catch up with the vampire and her mare, who were trotting away towards the forest.

“What are we doing?” Felicity asked breathlessly, once they were riding side by side.

Moira shot her a sharp look. “Hunting.”

Cold washed over her. “Hunting?” she repeated, feeling slightly sick.

“Unless you think your stomach may not be able to handle it.”

This was a test. It had to be.

“I can handle it,” Felicity said defiantly.

Moira turned away from her. “We’ll see.”

They rode a bit further, crossing the field and heading towards the edges of the forest, although they followed the treeline instead of following the trail into the wooded area. Felicity watched the vampire carefully as Moira sniffed the air, sitting taller in her saddle as she remained alert. She whipped around suddenly, narrowing her eyes as she cast her frigid gaze over the open field.

“What is it?” Felicity asked anxiously, keeping Sahim under a tight rein as he stirred nervously beneath her.

“Rabbit,” Moira responded shortly.

She kicked Nadra into a canter, allowed the mare to take her away from the trees and toward the center of the field. Felicity gave Sahim a looser rein so he could chomp on the bit as they trailed behind Oliver’s mother at a gallop, to catch up. Moira halted Nadra and swung out of the saddle to drop to the ground lightly once Felicity led the stallion up alongside her.

“Have you ever seen a vampire kill before?”

“No,” she said, sounding calm despite the rapid beating of her heart.

“Rabbits are small. That's where we will begin. Wait here.” She handed Nadra’s reins over to the witch. She’d fixed her gaze onto a certain spot in the middle of the grassy field in the distance. “Felicity. Whatever you do, do _not_ come near me while I'm hunting or feeding. Do you understand?”

Felicity’s mind raced at the implications, her heart rate jolting once again. Moira was going to chase down a rabbit, kill it, and drink its blood in front of her. “Yes.” Staying far away from the vampire while she was feeding seemed like an excellent idea.

Oliver's mother darted across the field in a blur, moving so fast it was impossible for Felicity to keep her eyes on her. The vampire slowed just as a wolf did before it rushed in for the kill, then bent suddenly and grabbed a frightened rabbit by the ear. Felicity watched in absolute horror as Moira held it up triumphantly before sinking her teeth directly into its heart. Thankfully, the rabbit quickly ceased struggling and appeared to die quickly. Holding back her gag reflex, Felicity forced herself to watch as Moira killed and then drained the small animal of its life, shocked by the amount of blood. Once she’d wiped her mouth clean on its fur, the vampire discarded the rabbit’s carcass into the grass.

Felicity felt strangely numb. She didn’t really know what to think. She’d watched nature documentaries before of dangerous predators such as bears and wild cats hunting and killing their prey, but she’d never imagined she would see the event up close - especially not with the predator being a vampire. She knew it was a natural part of life for vampires to take down animals and suck their blood from them, but for some reason, it was much more appalling actually watching it happen directly in front of her.

Moira was back in Nadra’s saddle before Felicity could even blink, her cheeks slightly flushed and eyes sparkling more than usual. “Well? Should we look for something more filling, or do you need to return to the house?” she asked slyly.

Oh yes. Moira de Reine was most definitely testing her.

Not allowing her nausea to win against her determination, Felicity touched Sahim’s flank with her heels, walking him forwards. “After you,” she said grimly, nodding ahead to Moira.

The vampire stared at her apprehensively for a moment, then humphed and urged her mare into a canter.

As the next couple of hours past, Felicity tried to focus on the increasing ache of her calves rather than the continuous kills Moira made, stopping them during their ride every fifteen minutes or so to seize another animal and drain it of blood. She was a relatively neat eater, barely spilling any blood; considering the persistent ill feeling plaguing the witch, this was a good thing. She would definitely feel worse if blood was spilling around everywhere. Still, it would be some time before Felicity was happy at the prospect of eating meat again. She’d soon become desensitized to the sight of dead animals after several rabbits, a marmot, a pair of foxes, and a wild goat.

When Moira gave chase to a young doe, however, something prickled inside her. “Moira, you can't still be hungry,” she said, voicing a protest for the first time since they’d started this abrupt hunting trip. “Leave the animal alone. You’re just hunting for sport now.”

“What? Do you object to my playful hunting of animals?” Moira’s voice was mocking, but her gaze was curious.

“Yes.”

Moira clambered off her horse, stalking after the doe. “I have been objecting to your hunting of my son. See what good that has done.”

Felicity’s fingers itched and sparked with blue lightning as she fought her urge to intervene; it was all she could do to stay out of Moira's way while she ran down her prey. Moira’s eyes always turned dark after each of her kills, revealing that she wasn't completely in command of her emotions or her actions when she was in feeding mode. Hunting the doe now, Moira’s eyes were completely black.

The doe tried to escape by darting into some underbrush, but Moira frightened the poor fatigued animal back into the open, killing it swiftly. The only consolation for Felicity was that the doe didn't suffer at all.

“There,” Moira said with satisfaction, returning to Nadra. “We can go back to Sept-Tours now.”

Felicity nodded, and turned Sahim in the direction of the château. But as she did so, the vampire lunged and grabbed the horse’s reins, yanking the stallion back around towards her. The witch tried not to look at the tiny drops of blood on Moira’s shirt.

“Do you think vampires are beautiful now?” Moira demanded. “Do you still think it would be easy to live with my son, knowing that he must kill to survive?”

Felicity stared back at her impassively. She couldn’t help but imagine kissing Oliver one day after he was just returning home from hunting and tasting fresh blood on his lips. If she and Oliver pursued a proper relationship, then days like the one she was now spending with Moira would be regular occurrences.

“If you're trying to frighten me away from your son, Moira, you’ve failed,” Felicity told her, her voice flat and tone slightly irritated. “You're going to have to do better than this.”

Moira looked annoyed. “Raisa said this would not be enough to make you reconsider,” she muttered.

The witch nodded curtly. “She was right. Is this trial over? Can we go home now?”

“Yes,” Moira replied, her voice startlingly soft. “It is nearing the evening, and you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Raisa will have tea prepared for you.” They rode back towards Sept-Tours in silence. Once the castle’s keep was in sight, however, Moira turned to Felicity and asked, “Do you understand why you must not question Oliver when he tells you to do something?”

“School’s over for the day, Moira,” the witch replied tiredly.

This was not the right thing to say. “Do you think our dining habits are the only obstacle standing between you and my son?”

Felicity sighed. “No. I know I have a lot to learn about vampire culture, Moira. And I’m willing to learn, for Oliver. So first off, I want to know why I have to do what Oliver says.”

“Because he is the head of the house.”

“But he’s not the oldest vampire here,” she replied, confused.

“No, but he is the strongest vampire in the château.”

“Are you saying I have to listen to him because he's the Alpha wolf?” she asked incredulously.

Moira barked out a laugh. “You think _you_ are?”

“No,” Felicity conceded. But Moira wasn't the Alpha wolf either. She’d submitted to her son several times since he’d arrived in France, and she was still obeying his orders now, even when he was gone. She did what Oliver told her to do. So did Roy and Dinah. Even Adrian had ultimately backed down. “Are these the de Reine pack rules?”

Moira nodded. “It is for your safety -and his, and everyone else's - that you must listen to him. This is not a game.”

“I understand that, Moira.”

“No, you don't,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “You won't either, until you are forced to see, just as I forced you to understand what it is for a vampire to kill. One day, your willfulness and defiance will cost you your life, or somebody you love’s. Then you will finally realize why our hierarchy is so important. You must follow Oliver’s lead at all times and not contest him.”

“What if Oliver is being irrational and making a wrong decision though?” she couldn’t help but ask. “Am I allowed to speak up then?”

“You must respect him.”

“And if I respect him enough to dispute something that will place him in danger?”

“Oliver knows what he can and cannot handle,” Moira said sharply. “Who are you to think you can comprehend his physical and mental limits?”

“He called me _mon coeur_ ,” Felicity countered. “Is the heart not more powerful than the logical mind?”

Moira snorted. “You have been reading too much poetry, and too many romance novels. He calls you that because he has marked you. By naming you _his heart_ , he is staking a claim.”

“Moira.”

The vampire glanced back at her, quirking an eyebrow.

“I love Oliver,” Felicity told her, her voice dead serious. “But I will not be owned by him. I don’t care if he’s the most possessive man on the face of the planet. He can protect and shield me all he likes, if he does it out of affection, but I don’t want to be thought of as Oliver’s property. Not by him, and not by any other vampire or creature. I will respect that he is the leader of the pack - the head of the de Reine family - and I will listen to him, but relationships are built _mutually_. If I respect Oliver, I expect the same respect to be returned in full.”

Appearing begrudgingly impressed by this bold statement by the witch, Moira nodded sharply and clucked Nadra into a gallop, streaking ahead of Felicity and her stallion.

They returned to Sept-Tours without any further conversation.


	29. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so if you follow me on twitter you'll know my exam season was pushed back and now is gonna be through may-june, and the i have labs and placements in june... so this is probably going to be the last update for a while, until end of june, beginning of july. yikes. sorry guys.
> 
> i made it an extra long, nice chapter for you to tide you over
> 
> thanks for all your support and patience xx

Oliver was on the prowl, but he wasn’t hunting an animal. He was hunting a witch.

Upon leaving the labs in Oxford, he’d headed to the Bodleian libraries to try and track down Alena. That horribly strong scent of roses, strawberries, and cinnamon burnt his nose as he searched for a trail to follow, his senses honed and sharp as his body prepared to chase his prey. He knew that it was likely either Roy or Dinah were following him from a distance, but as long as they didn’t interfere with his hunt, he wasn’t bothered; both of them recognized him as the head of the de Reine family and were no threat to him. Just before lunchtime, he managed to pick up Alena’s scent once again by the Radcliffe Camera - quite fresh, indicating she’d passed through approximately an hour ago.

There was no reason to rush. The vampire knew he could catch up to Alena easily. Oliver walked steadily but with intent through the Oxford streets, forcing himself to give off a casual aura to not alert any humans or other creatures who might see him that he was on a hunt; he was already under scrutiny due to his association with Felicity, and didn’t want to attract even more attention.

He stopped outside the gate of a nice semi-detached house on the outskirts of the city as the sun hung high in the sky, noting how Alena’s scent led inside. This was her home, then. Oliver debated hanging outside to wait for her, hovering behind one of the trees as to not be seen, but then he caught her scent again - this time much fresher than before, and heading away from the house. Perhaps the witch was going out for lunch.

Inhaling deeply and wrinkling his nose at the harshness of the witch’s cinnamon scent note, Oliver pulled away from the curb and began following that scent trail instead. He had just entered a back alleyway when his phone began to ring. Annoyed, Oliver checked it. Seeing the name on the screen, he flicked his cell phone onto silent. A message popped through as soon as the call rang out, but he ignored it as well. He didn’t have time to deal with Slade at the moment.

Oliver managed to catch up to Alena. She smelt calm and collected - her blood sugar was low and she was hungry, so his guess that she was going out for lunch was correct. The alleyway she was walking down was fenced on both sides, with no other humans or creatures present and no CCTV. It was the perfect place to confront her. Shortening his strides and walking faster, the vampire shifted into pursuit mode, growling lowly and feeling that tickle of thirst at the back of his throat.

Alena didn’t even notice he’d approached her until he was only six feet behind her, and she stopped suddenly, sensing his presence. She whipped around, clutching a couple of books and documents to her chest; the witch appeared frightened for a moment, but then fury and disgust overtook her.

“What do you want?” she hissed at him angrily.

Oliver smirked, hands in his pockets as he slinked around her in a circle, allowing the hunter in him to take over. “Still marking undergraduate essays, I see,” he drawled, his voice deep and seductive. Alena shivered, refusing to make eye contact with him. He reveled in the fact that he scared her. “Can’t even get into the history faculty to give your own lectures, can you? Is that why you're jealous of Felicity?”

“I'm not jealous of her,” Alena retorted, taking a step back. She swallowed nervously when Oliver quickly countered, not letting her gain any space.

“Or is this about preferment?” he tilted his head. “Has Merlyn told you that you're going to rise in the ranks? Gain a position within the Congregation, perhaps?” Alena didn’t respond, holding herself completely still as Oliver began to circle her again. She could obviously sense how much danger she was in; it amused him greatly. But he was getting tired of hanging around her - he decided that the direct approach would be better. “Why did you break into my lab?”

“What makes you think I did?” she asked quickly.

He laughed at her pathetic attempt. “I smelt your scent.” Baring his teeth in a mocking smile, he continued, “What were you looking for, I wonder? Tell me.”

Except instead of providing him information, Alena spat at him, “Makes me sick that she'd debase herself with a vampire.”

Well, if she wasn’t going to tell him anything willingly, there were other ways he could make her talk without actually talking. Vampires could extract memories from blood, after all. He hadn’t fed for a while; he hadn’t fed from a witch in decades. Witch blood was the most delicious of all human and creature blood. Alena smelt revolting and Oliver had no doubt that her blood would have a couple of repulsive tangs, but blood was blood. And since Alena had trespassed onto his territory, he could demand retribution in the form of her blood, memories - and life.

Alena must have realized his intentions the moment he decided what to do, because her eyes widened in sheer, overwhelming fear and she attempted to stumble back and run away. But she was too slow.

Within a second, Oliver had his teeth buried into her neck. Latching on, he swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of searing hot, iron-rich blood. He was right, her blood wasn’t particularly pleasant, but he needed to keep drawing from her to get her memories. Alena tried to struggle, flailing against him, but the vampire snarled and dug his teeth in deeper, pulling even more arterial blood to weaken her further. The memories started flashing through - they were muddled and blurry, but one thing became clear to Oliver: Alena had been in his labs to try and find out what he was researching and hadn’t initially been there for anything to do with Felicity. After seeing her bloods and specimens in the fridge, however, she’d attempted to break it and steal them. She had failed. There were photos she had taken on her cell phone, that she’d sent to Merlyn.

The vampire had got what he needed, but now he was feeding. Alena’s blood tasted heavy and almost fatty, with hints of strawberries and cinnamon from her scent, and also the faint bitter tang of petrol. He hadn’t fed recently and he was _so thirsty_.

Better he take blood from this bitch of a witch who had threatened him, his work and his mate than risk snapping in the future and accidentally feeding from Felicity.

He drank and drank and _drank_.

Until Alena fell completely limp and unconscious in her arms, drained of energy and blood.

Releasing her from his hold, Oliver withdrew his teeth from her flesh and allowed her body to drop to the ground in a crumpled heap. Alena was barely alive and breathing shallowly; she would wake in a couple of hours and possibly have enough energy to get herself help, but it was highly likely she was going to die. And he didn’t particularly care.

Straightening up and fixing his sleeves, Oliver brushed himself down to make sure he hadn’t spilled any blood on himself before stepping over Alena and sauntering off.

* * *

Moira steered Felicity towards the kitchens after they’d untacked and fed the horses. Felicity felt mostly numb, although her fingers and toes tingled with cold. The sharp tang of blood remained in her nose, making her stomach roll in somersaults, but he refused to give in to her nausea and throw up; she would not be that weak. Moira, however, must have realized she was unsteady on her feet, as she called for Raisa. When she emerged from the pantry, Raisa took in the spots of blood on Moira's collar and gasped.

“She needed to know,” Moira hissed.

Raisa looked outraged, saying something low and foul-sounding in Occitan to the other vampire. Moira appeared offended for a moment, but then prodded the witch forwards, so Raisa could guide her into a chair. The vampire’s hands were freezing against her own, making the witch flinch.

“Here, Miss Felicity, come with me,” Raisa said kindly. “I will get you something to eat and teach you to make my tea.”

“I’d prefer some coffee,” she admitted, sheepish.

“You are too anxious for coffee. Riding was meant to help calm you, not heighten your adrenaline.” Raisa shot Moira a glare, which only made the other female vampire appear furious. “Mister Oliver will not be pleased.”

Moira stormed off after that, claiming she had phone calls to make. Felicity was finally able to relax, placing her head in her hands and breathing deeply to try and squash the panic that had been stirring inside her for hours. Recognizing that the witch’s appetite might have been subdued by the unexpected hunting trip, Raisa handed her a plate with a couple of crumbly biscuits and some cheese, with a glass of fresh lemonade. 

The vampire helped keep her distracted from thinking about the events of the afternoon by keeping her busy, having Felicity sort dried herbs and spices into tiny piles and teaching her their names. By the evening, the witch could identify them by smell with her eyes closed, as well as by appearance. It reminded her of the herbal earth magic that both Sara and Nyssa practiced in Madison; there was, however, no indication that any spells or charms would be needed in this instance.

Raisa’s experienced hands neatly filled teabags with the flowers and leaves, securing their strings, and soon Felicity was doing the same, watching the vampire’s technique carefully. After they’d finished, Raisa brewed the witch a cup of tea using a bag Felicity had filled herself, although the vampire added several good teaspoons of sugar, muttering about shock.

“It's delicious,” Felicity said, somewhat to her own surprise. She had never expected to like a herbal tea this much. It wasn’t quite as bitter as coffee, but the flavor was floral and sweet when sugar was added.

“You will take it back to Oxford with you,” Raisa ordered, putting the bags into a tin. “One cup a day. It will keep you healthy. When you need more, you will know how to make it now.”

After the tea and several more biscuits, Felicity went upstairs to Oliver's study to resume her studying of the _Aurora_. Her forearms ached due to all the afternoon’s riding, so when she switched on her laptop, she moved it and the manuscript over to his personal desk, hoping that it would be more comfortable to work at rather than the table in the middle of the room she’d been using before. Unfortunately, the leather chair was made for someone Oliver's height, not hers, and her feet swung freely. Sitting in Oliver's chair made him seem closer, however, so Felicity remained there while waiting for her laptop files to load.

Her gaze fell upon on a dark object tucked into the tallest shelf. It blended into the wood and the books' leather bindings, which hid it from casual view. From Oliver's desk, however, Felicity could see its outlines. It was a carved, ancient block of wood, animal-like in shape. The thing was black, cracked, and misshapen with age, but after a moment of staring at it, she could make out it was meant to be a horse.

A child’s toy.

Felicity closed her eyes, squeezing the bridge of her nose. Oliver had made it for baby Connor, before the little boy had died and Oliver had become a vampire. He’d tucked it into the corner of a shelf where no one would ever notice it - except him. From the desk, he had the perfect view of it every time he sat down. He was constantly reminding himself of the son he’d lost and the trauma he had suffered through. It was bordering on self-destructive behavior.

Her phone chirped.

Tearing her gaze away from the shelf, Felicity pulled out her phone. It was Nyssa calling. Sitting back in her chair, she picked up nervously.

“Felicity.” Nyssa sounded relieved. “Good. Sara wasn’t certain you would pick up.”

“I did sort of snap at her this morning, so I can understand why she would think that. Can you tell her I’m sorry? There’s been a lot going on lately.”

“Apology accepted,” Sara said, and Felicity’s cheeks reddened. So Nyssa had the phone on speaker then. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Felicity flicked a red pen back and forth on the top of the desk, muttering, “There’s nobody else I can really talk to.” Sighing, she admitted, “I don’t know where to start.”

“You can start with the fact that Oliver isn’t with you right now. You said he’s in Oxford.”

“Yeah, there was an incident at the lab. He had to go.”

“So where are you now?”

“I’m still in France, at his house. He thought it would be better if I didn’t go back with him. I’m staying with his mother.”

“Oliver's mother?” Sara asked sharply.

“Moira de Reine.” Felicity tried her best to pronounce it as Moira and Oliver did, with long vowels and swallowed consonants. “She's something else, Sara. Sometimes I think she's the reason humans are so afraid of vampires.”

There was a pause. “Be careful, Felicity,” Nyssa warned her softly. “Moira de Reine notoriously hates witches. She ate her way through most of Germany and Southern America after the Second World War. She wiped out entire covens.”

“She has good reason to hate witches,” Felicity said, rubbing her temples. “I'm surprised she let me into her house, to be honest.”

“What about the water?” Sara interjected. “I'm more worried about the vision Nyssa had of a tempest.”

“Oh. Um. I started raining last night after Oliver left.” There was no better way of putting it, really.  
.  
“Witchwater,” Nyssa breathed, sounding awed. “What brought it on?”

“I don't know, Nyssa.” Swallowing, Felicity continued to twirl the pen around, closing her eyes as she admitted, “I just… felt empty. But when Oliver pulled out of the driveway, all my emotions I’d been bottling up since Adrian showed up just poured out of me all at once.”

“Adrian who?”

Felicity flicked the pen a little too hard due to her anger, and sent it skidding off the side of the desk onto the floor. “Adrian Chase, he’s a vampire. He’s on the Congregation.”

“We know who he is. I don’t think there’s a witch alive who doesn’t. He's dangerous,” Sara said, agitated. “That creature doesn't play by the rules.”

“He’s got going to get anywhere near me again. I'm under guard twenty-four hours a day. Don't worry.”

“We'll worry until you're no longer hanging around with vampires,” Sara huffed.

“You'll be worrying for a long time, then.” Taking a shuddering breath, Felicity confessed, “I love Oliver, Sara.”

“That's impossible, Felicity. The Covenant - vampires and witches can’t -”

“I'm not asking anyone else to break the Covenant,” Felicity cut in. “I understand that this might mean you can't or won't have anything to do with me. But for me, there's no choice. This isn’t something I can just… sweep under the rug. I love Oliver and nothing is going to change that.”

Nyssa sounded frustrated and upset as she said, “The Congregation will try and end your relationship. Things will get violent. You can't just walk into danger that way.”

“I’m sorry, Nyssa. It’s too late. I’ve made my decision.”

There was brief silence on the other end of the line.

“We all have to make decisions for ourselves,” Sara said tiredly. “And you’re right, Felicity. Now it's your turn. And you’ve chosen. We might not like what you’ve decided, but we are not turning our backs on you.”

Tears stung her eyes. “Thank you, Sara.”

“What does Oliver say about this?” Nyssa asked. “I'm surprised he would leave you once you two decided to break with a thousand years of tradition.”

Felicity bit her lip. “Oliver... hasn't told me how he feels yet.”

“What is he waiting for?”

Felicity laughed at Sara’s affronted tone. “You've done nothing but warn me to stay away from Oliver, and now you're upset because he refuses to put me in greater danger than I'm already in?”

“You want to be with him. That should be enough,” Nyssa said. “If you're determined to stay there in France, then please be careful.”

“If you need to come home, come home,” Sara told her.

Just before they said goodbye, Nyssa added quietly, “Both you and Oliver are welcome.”

Hanging up, Felicity tucked her phone away. Time to get back to the manuscript. First, though, she needed to retrieve her red pen. It had fallen under the desk drawers and was just out of reach. Felicity crawled down onto her hands and knees, worming her hand under the drawers. Her fingers found the pen, just as her eyes spotted the outline of a drawer in the dark wood above. There was nothing in the deep carving circling the desktop that released the catch on the concealed drawer.

A desk drawer that was difficult to find… was designed to hide something.

Oliver kept secrets which Felicity respected he had the right to keep, but his tight-lipped manner was infuriating. The vampire had rifled through her belongings in her New College rooms when he was looking for Ashmole 782… surely a little snooping on her part was justified.

After some searching, Felicity’s fingertips found a possible latch. To the left of the hidden drawer was a small round metal bump. It had cross-hatching in the center to make it look like a screw or an old nail head. There was a soft click overhead when Felicity pushed it in, unlocking the drawer.

Opening it up, Felicity was met with a tray about four inches deep, lined with black velvet. There were three bronze medals or coins embedded into the casing. The largest one had a building's outline cut into its surface, with four steps leading up to a door flanked by two columns. Between them was a shrouded figure. The building's crisp outlines were marred by fragments of black wax.

Around the edge of the coin was the phrase ‘ _militie Lazari a Bethania_ ’. The Knights of Lazarus of Bethany.

The metal disks weren't coins or medals. They were seals, to close official correspondence and certify transactions. Based on the wax residue, at least one seal had been used recently.

Felicity pried one of the smaller disks from the tray. This one had the same emblem as the larger one, but instead, the building was surrounded by a snake, its tail in its mouth - an ouroboros, the same image that had been on the de Reine family standard. The witch examined the back of the seal closely, taking in its details. A cross with flared edges divided the seal into quarters, and in the upper right quadrant of the seal was a crescent moon with a six-pointed star. In the lower left quadrant was a fleur-de-lis, the traditional symbol of France.

Inscribed around the edge of the seal were the letters ODR, followed by ‘ _secretum Lazari_ ’, meaning ‘the secret of Lazarus’.

ODR. Oliver de Reine.

This disk had to be Oliver’s private seal.

If Felicity didn’t know any better, she would have thought that the seals in Oliver's desk drawer belonged to one of the orders of Crusader knights established in the Middle Ages. The best known were the Templars, who had mysteriously disappeared in the early fourteenth century after being accused of heresy. But she’d never heard of the Knights of Lazarus before.

Felicity ran her fingertips over the two-inch disk sat in her palm. The power of seals like these was so great that they were usually destroyed when someone died. Only one knight of such a chivalric order would own both the great seal and a personal seal: the order's leader.

Oliver had been the leader of the Knights of Lazarus.

But examining the seals once again, and realizing what the freshness of the black wax on them meant, Felicity shook her head in disbelief. The seals were still in use.

Which meant that the Knights of Lazarus were still in existence today.

“Felicity? Are you all right?” Moira's voice echoed up from the foot of the stairs. She sounded worried. She must have been able to hear Felicity’s heart rate increasing rapidly due to her shock.

“Yes, I’m fine!” Felicity called back, hastily placing the two seals she’d taken out back into their velvet case. “Sorry, I'm reading my emails and got some unexpected news, that's all!”

“Would you like me to ask Raisa to bring you some tea?”

“No!” the witch blurted. “I’m okay, thanks!”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes!”

Felicity exhaled in relief when she heard Moira’s steps retreating. She was just about to push the drawer shut when she noticed the other seal that she hadn’t examined yet. She flipped it over. It was nearly identical to Oliver's, except that the upper right quadrant held only the crescent moon. RDR was engraved on the edges. This seal had belonged to Oliver's father, Robert, which had to mean that the Knights of Lazarus were a de Reine family affair.

Felicity had just slid the drawer shut when her cell phone started to ring again, causing her to startle.

“Oliver?” she answered confusedly.

“You're okay,” the vampire replied, sounding satisfied. He must have been anxious about her.

“Yes. Your mother has been keeping me entertained. She’s been telling me stories about you.”

He chuckled. “I was afraid of that. What has she been telling you?”

“Only the truth,” she said, deciding not to go into detail about the events of the afternoon or that Moira had told her about Oliver’s first family. “According to her, you’re some mix between Robin Hood and Batman.”

“Well, I try,” he said with a hint of laughter.

“How did everything go today?” Felicity asked.

“Fine. We've increased our security, though nothing was missing. We checked the Old Lodge as well and there were no break-ins there.”

“Did you figure out who the intruder was? Was it Malcolm Merlyn?”

“I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“Are you coming back soon?” The question escaped before Felicity could stop it.

The ensuing silence stretched longer than was comfortable. “I don't know,” Oliver eventually replied, his voice cool. “I'll be back when I can.”

His sudden coldness hurt. It was a struggle for Felicity to keep her voice even when she told him, “Okay. I miss you.”

He didn’t respond. She just heard his breathing hitch.

“It’s late, I’m going to go to bed,” she mumbled, dejected. “Goodnight, Oliver.”

“Goodnight, Felicity.”

Felicity’s chest felt tight, and it was difficult to inhale. It would be impossible for her to focus on studying the manuscript now and she was too tired to concentrate anyway. She sank into bed wearing Oliver’s Henley, mourning its fading scent of cacao, cedar wood and sea salt that had been one of her greatest connections to Oliver since he’d left.

Exhausted, Felicity quickly drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with knights, bronze seals, and magic.

She was woken instantly by a cold, slender hand touching her shoulder. Bolting upright, she exclaimed, “Oliver?” questioningly before she even opened up her eyes. But when Felicity’s vision finally focused, it was Moira standing above her. It was very early morning, judging by the sunlight streaming in through the window. “Sorry,” she apologized to the female vampire, averting her gaze. The witch felt somewhat embarrassed at being caught at a moment of weakness, crying out for Moira’s son. “I thought…”

“I know,” Moira replied quietly. She handed over her personal cell phone. “It's for you.” She departed rather hastily.

The phone said it was barely 4am. Tired and confused, she asked into the phone, “Sara?”, terrified that something might have happened to her best friends in America, which was why the call was at such a strange time.

“It's all right, Felicity,” a warm, soothing voice reassured her.

Oliver.

“What's happened? Are you okay?” she asked frantically.

Oliver sounded small and lost as he answered her, his voice thick with emotion, causing her heart to clench. “No. I… I can't make any more progress here. There's nothing left for me in Oxford. I want to be home, with you. I miss you so much… too much.”

Felicity pinched herself, because this was too good to be true. Oliver was returning to her because he desperately wanted to. It didn’t feel real. “Am I dreaming?” she muttered to herself.

“You're not dreaming,” Oliver replied, with a sad chuckle. “I promise. And Felicity?” He hesitated. “I have something to tell you when I get home.”

The forgotten chain inside of Felicity that joined her to Oliver started to sing in the dark, the dull links beginning to shine and shimmer once again.

“Am I going to like what you’re going to tell me?” she asked softly, her eyes filling with tears of relief.

“It depends. You haven't changed your mind about me?”

“Never,” Felicity said fiercely.

“You'll be in danger, and your family and friends will be as well,” Oliver warned, his voice incredibly gentle. “Are you certain that you’re willing to risk that, for my sake?”

“I’ve made my choice.”

“Then yes. You will like what I have to say. I should be there in a few hours. The plane is about to land.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Felicity whispered.

She hung up reluctantly, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after that. Oliver was finally coming back. Keeping Moira’s phone on her at all times just in case Oliver decided to call again, Felicity rushed through showering and getting changed, only heading downstairs when Moira and Raisa came up to insist she needed to have breakfast.

After finishing off a fresh pot of coffee and several breakfast rolls, Felicity took a quick run around the grounds when Moira wrinkled her nose and made a comment about her adrenaline being too high. The witch had protested at first, determined to be waiting for Oliver when he arrived, but Moira reassured her that he wouldn't be reaching Sept-Tours for another hour.

Although Felicity felt a little calmer after her run, Moira still complained under her breath that the witch smelt too spicy. She gave Felicity a small sedative pill from a blister pack Oliver had left behind and apparently ordered his mother to utilize if she ever thought Felicity was becoming too agitated. Felicity only swallowed the pill when Moira threatened to sic Raisa on her, as the other female vampire would fuss over her much more than she currently was.

Felicity waited out the last half an hour on the salon couch by the fire, lying down with her feet up as she flicked through Oliver’s copy of Darwin with trembling hands. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in Oxford to make Oliver change his mind about coming home, and about her. Moira and Raisa kept her company, although the witch suspected they were actually keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t have any kind of anxiety attack.

As the time of Oliver’s arrival grew nearer and nearer, pacing up and down the corridor was preferable to reading, as that required a degree of patience and concentration - neither of which Felicity currently had. Raisa left, muttering about lunch, while Moira stayed, leaning against the salon doorway as she watched Felicity pace with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you ever sit still?” Moira sighed.

Felicity flashed her a dark look. When she saw that the female vampire was observing her with exasperation, rather than anger, she wilted. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Moira shook her head. “If this is what you are like after a sedative, I cannot imagine how much of a struggle it must be for you when you are anxious and not medicated. I thought Oliver was simply being overprotective when he requested I take you outside and ensure you did not get ill because of your adrenaline condition, but I see now he was right to be concerned.”

“Are you worried about me, Moira?” Felicity asked, a small smile on her lips. Perhaps she had managed to bring Oliver’s mother around. She was certain that Moira no longer hated her as she thought the vampire might have when they had first come to Sept-Tours, but she would consider it a triumph if Moira was actually beginning to like her.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Moira responded. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know. I despise witches.”

“All witches?” Felicity prompted.

“Not all,” the vampire begrudgingly admitted. “You are… tolerable.”

“Just tolerable?”

Moira glanced away. “I can understand why my son is so fond of you.”

Felicity grinned.

“Oh, stop smiling,” Moira snapped, and to the witch’s delight, there was a slight blush on her pale cheeks.

The crunch of tires on gravel caused Felicity to freeze, her head whipping around.

Oliver was home.

A silver Range Rover had just stopped in the courtyard when Felicity sprinted outside, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings in her chest. Felicity skidded to a stop on the gravel and watched with her breath caught in her throat as Oliver clambered out of the driver’s seat. His eyes instantly flicked over to her, filled with an indescribable emotion. He didn’t break eye contact with the witch as he closed the door and slipped the keys into his pocket.

Felicity’s feet moved beneath her without her even needing to tell them to, and within seconds, her arms were locked around Oliver’s neck, her toes barely touching the ground as she embraced him tightly.

“Don't do that again,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes closed against sudden tears. “Don't ever do that again, Oliver.”

The vampire shuddered against her and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. He hugged her back as if he was afraid to let go of her. The two of them held each other without speaking for a good couple of minutes. They didn’t need to talk to express their absolute relief at being back together. Felicity could hear her own blood singing in her veins - singing _for Oliver_ \- as his hands held her securely against his body.

Reaching up and loosening Felicity’s grip, Oliver gently set her back on her feet. Felicity swallowed as he cupped her face tenderly, savoring the familiar touches of snow on her skin as he brushed his thumb over her cheek.

“I was so wrong,” Oliver murmured, his eyes so dark they were almost black.

Felicity startled in panic. “Wrong about what?”

“I thought I knew how much I missed you. But I had no idea.”

Catching hold of the front of his blue sweater in her fingers, Felicity tugged on the fabric. “Oliver. Tell me.” She wanted to hear what he’d told her on the phone he wanted to say to her.

Oliver softened. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Dropping his hands from her face, he cradled her waist instead. His voice cracked with emotion as he told her, “I love you, Felicity. God help me, I tried so hard not to. But I love you so much.”

Felicity almost sobbed in relief. “I love you too, Oliver.”

She surged up onto her tiptoes and kissed him just as he leaned down and crashed his lips bruisingly to hers. The heat that erupted between them was intense; Felicity felt as if her bones were turning into fire. The witch threw an arm around the vampire’s shoulder to anchor herself to him, while Oliver slipped one of his hands around her waist and cradled the back of her head with his other. The kiss was passionate and heated and desperate. Felicity needed to do more than just touch him to reassure herself that he was here and finally accepting his feelings for her. Breaking away from him, she rested her forehead against his, breathing heavily. Oliver only pulled her more tightly against him.

After a long while, the vampire loosened his hold on the witch enough that he could speak. “You are mine now. And I am yours.”

Felicity’s lips were too numb to reply, so she nodded, curling her fingers into his sweater.

“Still no doubts?” Oliver asked quietly, brushing a lock of hair behind her air.

“None.”

Exhaling shakily, Oliver gently grasped hold of Felicity’s dominant hand, raising it up to press their palms together and link their fingers. “From this moment forward, we are one,” he whispered. “Do you understand?”

“I think so.” Felicity understood, at the very least, that nobody and nothing was ever going to keep her from Oliver again.

“She has absolutely no idea.” Moira's voice rang through the courtyard, angry and curt. Oliver stiffened with a growl, his arms circling Felicity protectively as they both turned to face her. The expression on Moira’s face was frightening. The witch felt as if every bridge she had built with the female vampire was suddenly crumbling. “With that kiss, you have broken every rule that holds our world together and keeps us safe. Oliver, you have marked that witch as your own. And Felicity, you have offered your witch's blood and power to a vampire. You have turned your back on your own kind and pledged yourself to a creature who is your enemy.”

Felicity was shaken by the ferocity of Moira’s statement. “It was a kiss.”

“No, it was an oath,” Moira snapped. “And having made this promise to each other - breaking the Covenant and directly taking a stand against the Congregation - you are now outlaws of both witch and vampire societies.” She looked away. “May the gods save you both.”

“If we are no longer welcome here, then Felicity and I will go,” Oliver said quietly. “Should I begin making arrangements for us to leave?”

“How dare you ask that question?” Moira snarled. She strode towards them like a tigress approaching prey to make the kill. “Have I _ever_ deserted you, Oliver?”

“No, _Maman_.” Oliver averted his gaze.

“You are my beloved son,” his mother continued, her voice as strong as iron. “And Felicity is now my daughter. She is my responsibility as well as yours. Your fight is my fight, so your enemies are my enemies.”

“You don't have to shelter us.”

“Enough of this nonsense.” Moira took hold of one of Oliver’s hands, swinging them between them. “You are going to be persecuted to the ends of the earth because of this love the both of you share. If you are going to fight, I will as well - we fight as a family.” The female vampire turned to Felicity. “As for you, Felicity, you will fight alongside Oliver, as you promised. My son wants you more than he has wanted anything since he became a vampire, and you need him as much as you need the magic in your veins to survive. You are reckless, but I cannot fault your bravery.”

Moira unexpectedly pulled the witch toward her and pressed her cold lips to her cheek, embracing her lightly. Felicity swallowed and hugged her back nervously; she had been living under the vampire's roof for days, but this felt like her first official welcome. Releasing Felicity, Moira glanced over at her son coldly.

“If we are going to take a stand against the Congregation and defy the Covenant, then Felicity needs to start behaving like a witch, and not some pathetic human. The women of the de Reine family defend themselves.”

Oliver bristled. “Felicity won’t need to fight. I'll see to her safety.”

“This is why you are always losing at chess, Oliver,” Moira scoffed at him. “Like Felicity, the queen has almost unlimited power, yet you insist on surrounding her and leaving yourself - the king - vulnerable. As long as Felicity denies her heritage and refuses to take up magical arms, her weakness places us all at risk.”

“Nobody is going to force Felicity to be something she isn't.”

“Exactly. We are no longer going to let Felicity force herself to be a human, which she is not,” Oliver’s mother said, sounding smug. “She is a witch and you are a vampire. If this was not true, we would not be in such a mess. Oliver, _mon cher_ , if the witch is brave enough to want you, she has no reason to fear her own power.”

Felicity sighed. “She's right, Oliver.”

Gently setting a hand on the witch’s shoulder, Oliver pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, leading her off the driveway and up the porch steps. “Come on, let’s go inside. You're cold, and we need to talk about Oxford.” He shot his mother a wary, suspicious look. “Then we can tackle the subject of your magic.”

“I need to tell you what’s been happening here, too,” Felicity said, leaning into his side.

Oliver chuckled, caressing down her back. “There's plenty of time for you to tell me everything.”

Raisa was waiting for the three of them when they walked back into the château through the doors. Upon seeing Oliver, she lit up and grabbed him in a fierce hug, as if he was returning home from battle, not just from Oxford. The trio of vampires and the witch settled down in the salon on the couches, in front of a blazing fire that chased away the cold from outside.

Oliver tucked Felicity into his side, adjusting the cushions around her and making sure she was comfortable as he watched her drink some of Raisa’s tea. To the witch’s amusement, he was fussing over her; every few moments, he put his hand on her knee, or smoothed the sweater across her shoulders, or flicked a piece of hair back into place. It was as if the vampire trying to make up for his brief absence. Felicity couldn’t say she minded. Once Oliver finally began to relax, they started to converse.

“Were Roy and Dinah in the lab when the break-in was attempted?” Felicity asked worriedly.

“No, they were home,” he reassured her, taking a sip from the glass of wine Raisa had put beside him. “The thieves broke in late at night. Roy and Dinah didn’t find out about the break-in until the following morning. The two of them weren't in any danger.”

“Thank God,” Moira murmured, staring at the fire.

“What were they looking for?”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair anxiously. “Information. About you,” he admitted reluctantly. “Someone broke into your rooms at New College as well. Rene was absolutely horrified. He told me they're going to put new locks on your doors and a CCTV camera in your stairwell.”

“It's not Rene's fault,” Felicity shook her head. “With all the new students, all you need to get past the porters is a confident step and a university scarf.” Frowning down into her teacup, she questioned, “What were they looking for? Were they after my research?”

“You have your laptop with all your research notes on it here. It wasn't your work they were after.”

“Then what was it?”

Oliver’s hands gripped hers tightly. His voice was soft when he spoke to her, although there was an edge of anger to his tone. “They essentially destroyed your bedroom and bathroom. Dinah thinks they were looking for a sample of your DNA. Hair, skin, fingernail clippings… when they couldn't get your bloods from the lab, they went looking in your rooms.”

Felicity slowly placed her empty teacup down on the table, clenching her jaw when she saw that her hand was shaking slightly. She was scared, but didn’t want to admit to her fears. Biting her lip, the witch tried to pull her hand from Oliver’s grasp, but Oliver held on.

“Hey.” He tilted her chin towards him, his eyes warm and sympathetic. “You're not alone in this, remember? It’s okay.”

Once she’d gathered her composure, Felicity commented, “So it wasn't an ordinary burglar. It was a creature - somebody who knows about the two of us, and about Ashmole 782.”

Oliver jerked his head in a nod of acknowledgment.

“They wouldn’t have found much. At least, not in my rooms.” When Oliver glanced over at her, puzzled, Felicity explained, “My mom insisted that I clean my hairbrush before leaving for school every morning. She made me flush my shed hair and nail clippings down the toilet. I continued to do it when Quentin was raising Sara and me, and then when I moved to Madison with Sara and Nyssa. It became an ingrained habit over time.”

Oliver now appeared stunned, and impressed. Moira didn't look surprised at all - her expression was one of pride. “Your mother sounds more and more like someone I would have been eager to know,” Moira said.

“Ha!” Felicity laughed, trying to imagine Donna Smoak and Moira de Reine having dinner together. “I think her personality was a little different than what you’re imagining, Moira.”

“Do you remember what she told you about the hair and nail clippings?” Oliver asked, curious.

“Not really.”

“Hair and fingernails contain a lot of genetic information, but it’s not like your mother was a geneticist. What could she have been thinking?” Oliver mused out loud.

“Who knows?” Felicity shrugged. “My mom was famous for her second sight and future visions. Then again, she could just have been thinking like a Smoak. We're not the sanest bunch of witches.”

“Your mother was not mad, Felicity, and not everything can be explained by your modern science, Oliver,” Moira said, rolling her eyes. “Witches have believed for centuries that hair and fingernails have power, and can be used to work spells - binding spells and love magic depend on such things.”

Felicity blinked, shocked. “You told me you weren't a witch, Moira.”

“I have known many witches over the centuries. Not a single one of them would ever leave a strand of their hair or clipping of their nails behind, for fear that another witch would find them.”

Now even more alarmed, Felicity whipped back around to face Oliver, asking frantically, “Who was it that broke in? What kind of creature?”

“A witch tried to get into the lab, but we're less sure about your rooms. Roy thinks it was vampires and witches working together, but I think it was just witches.” The vampire was gritting his teeth, and there was fire in his eyes. He was furious.

“Why are you so angry?” Felicity wondered. “Because those creatures violated my territory?”

“Yes. I might be able to overlook a trespasser on my land or in my lab, Felicity, but I cannot stand by while someone does it to you.” A deep rumble erupted from his chest, and he rested his cheek against the side of her head possessively. “It feels like a threat against you, and I just… can’t tolerate it. My base instincts are screaming at me to keep you safe.”

“So it was the break-in at New College that convinced you to be with me?”

Oliver cupped her face. “I needed no encouragement to be with you,” he murmured, smiling before kissing her sweetly.

Moira stood, clearing her throat. She was clearly uncomfortable with her son's open affection towards the witch. Motioning towards Raisa, she said, “We will leave you.”

“No, _Maman_. You should hear the rest. It concerns Ashmole 782.”

“The Book of Life.” Moira sank back down into her chair, her voice heavy. “So you are not merely outlaws because of breaking the Covenant. Adrian first came here to confront you about the creature’s book of creation. They believe Felicity will be able to retrieve it for them.” 

Oliver nodded. “Yes, the Congregation have become interested in Ashmole 782 and the mystery of how Felicity somehow acquired it. Witches have been searching for the lost manuscript for at least as long as I have. They never foresaw that Felicity would be the one to recover it.”

“And no creature would ever imagine that you would be the one to reach her first,” Moira sighed. “What have you got yourself into, Felicity?”

Old fears swelled to the surface, whispering at the back of Felicity’s mind that there was something wrong deep inside of her. She didn’t respond and instead mapped out random shapes onto Oliver’s knee with her fingertips, trying to distract herself from the crushing feeling in her chest.

“Powerful witches would have been in the Bodleian, who knew the manuscript's importance, if not for Mabon,” Oliver told them. “But they were busy with the festival and let their guard down.” Glancing over at Felicity, he continued, “They left the task of keeping an eye on the libraries and you to that young witch. And she let you - and the manuscript - slip through her fingers.”

“Poor Alena,” Felicity whispered. Malcolm Merlyn must be furious with her.

Oliver's mouth tightened. The witch narrowed her eyes at him. He was keeping another secret from her, something regarding Alena. She was about to question him about it, but Oliver spoke up before she got the chance.

“I suspect the Congregation has been watching you for reasons that go well beyond the book. I think it must have to do with your power.”

Felicity’s fingers froze mid-octagon on his thigh. “How long?”

“Probably your whole life.”

“Since my parents died,” she whispered. Felicity closed her eyes as unsettling memories from her childhood floated out from her subconscious. As a child, she’d always thought she was imagining feeling the tingles of a witch's attention while on the swings at school, and a vampire's cold stare at Sara's birthday party. “They've been watching me since my parents died.”

Oliver’s expression and voice was grave. “If they have you, they'll have the book, too, or so they think. You're connected to Ashmole 782 in some powerful way none of us understand yet."

“Not even Malcolm Merlyn?” Felicity asked nervously.

“Roy asked around in Oxford; he has a lot of contacts. He's good at wheedling information out of people, and as far as he can tell, Merlyn is still completely mystified by how you managed to summon the manuscript.”

“I don't want Roy to put himself at risk for me. He should stay out of this, Oliver.”

“Roy knows how to take care of himself,” the vampire replied. His nostrils flared slightly. “You're tired, and hungry. Maybe we should wait until after lunch to continue this conversation.”

“I still don’t think it’s fair that you can smell when I’m hungry,” Felicity complained.

Oliver's head tipped back and he laughed. “That’s coming from a witch, who could read my thoughts as if they were a novel, if she felt like it,” he teased. “Felicity, sweetheart, I know when you change your mind, I know when you’re thinking about jumping a paddock fence, and I know when you’re on the verge of a panic attack. I most definitely know when you're hungry.” He kissed her intensely, as if he was trying to emphasize this point.

“Speaking of my being a witch,” Felicity said rather casually, slightly breathless when he was finished kissing her, “We've confirmed witchwater on the list of genetic possibilities.” Oliver looked surprised, and concerned, but there was a strange fakeness to his expression. Felicity’s eyes widened in realization. “You already know. Roy told you?”

“In fairness to him, he thought that I would have already been told when he brought it up,” Oliver said, raising his hands in surrender.

“I told you Roy does not know when to keep his mouth shut,” Moira muttered under her breath.

Oliver tugged at Felicity’s hand. “I would still like to hear about what happened from you. When exactly did it happen?”

“The moment you pulled away from Sept-Tours,” Felicity said. “I wouldn't let myself cry while you were here. Once you were gone, I cried… a lot.”

“You've cried before, but never produced witchwater,” Oliver said thoughtfully. He turned the witch’s hands over, examining her palms and fingers carefully. Felicity wondered what precisely he was looking for. Evidence of some emerging power, perhaps? “The water came out of your hands?”

Felicity rubbed her fingers and thumbs together on both hands. “It came out of everywhere.” Oliver’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “It was like there was nothing left of _me_ , or if there was, it was transformed into water. I thought I'd never taste anything except salt and seaweed ever again.”

“Were you alone?” Oliver asked sharply.

“No, no, of course not,” Felicity hurried to reassure him. “Raisa and Moira were there watching me. They just couldn't get near me. There was a lot of water, Oliver. Wind, too. I didn’t have any control. I was afraid I was going to drown.”

“What made it stop?”

“I passed out,” she confessed.

Oliver’s arms were around her in a tight, protective hug instantly. “I shouldn’t have gone. Or I should have taken you with me. I wish I hadn’t been such an emotionally repressed idiot and left you behind,” he mumbled.

“You’re back now, and that’s all that matters,” Felicity whispered into his shoulder.

As the rest of the day unfolded, Oliver's happiness at being home with the witch was infectious. He was bright and cheerful, and seemed to revel in Felicity’s company. Felicity was just relieved to have him back with her. They enjoyed lunch together out in the garden among the roses, with Charlie and Pitch begging for scraps of Oliver’s steak, which he gladly rewarded them with. The vampire didn’t ask why Felicity had chosen a vegetarian meal option of a chickpea salad, and instead decided that he would discover all of the places that Felicity was the most ticklish. Felicity didn’t think she’d laughed so much in her entire life. They lay together in the grass, the witch on top of the vampire, and enjoyed the rare rays of sunshine that shone through the clouds.

Oliver seemed to sense an oncoming rainstorm so directed them inside for the afternoon. He joined Felicity in his tower study, insisting that she carry on with her normal routine and not let him distract her from her work. They sat together at the larger table and not at Oliver’s desk, next to each other instead of opposite as they so often had when studying at the libraries in Oxford. Felicity found it pretty difficult to concentrate on the Aurora manuscript, however, when Oliver kept leaning in and brushing his nose up and down the column of her throat, purring happily. The witch reckoned it was due to the fact he hadn’t been able to smell her scent properly while he’d been absent, and he was intoxicated by the way her blood sung for him whenever he touched her.

Felicity couldn’t help but feel as if there was still a wall standing between her and Oliver though. Despite his declaration of love, Oliver remained reluctant to let the witch behind the protective barrier he’d so carefully constructed to keep creatures away from his deepest and darkest secrets.

While Oliver’s head was bowed over _Of Species_ , Felicity cautiously reached out with invisible fingers to connect her mind to his, in an attempt to locate a chink in Oliver's defenses. Frowning, Oliver looked up at her in confusion.

“Did you say something?” he asked.

Drawing away hastily, Felicity answered, “No.”

“Hmm.” Oliver glanced back down at his book.

That evening, they enjoyed a quiet dinner with Moira and Raisa. It was light-hearted and happy, with Oliver listening contently as Felicity told him about the notes she’d gathered on the Aurora that would help with her keynote presentation. Moira watched her son closely with a faint look of sadness on her face as Oliver lifted the witch’s hand to press a kiss to her palm.

It was late when they returned to Oliver’s tower. Felicity shed her day clothes to pull on Oliver’s Henley and a pair of shorts. Normally, this would be the time when Oliver would retreat to his study while she fell asleep, and Felicity worried about whether or not her scent would be detectable on the velvet that cushioned the seals of the Knights of Lazarus.

As she exited the bathroom, however, she froze when she saw that Oliver was stripping off to his black boxers. “Do you want the left side or the right?”

Felicity stared at him in shock. He was getting into bed with her? “What?”

“If it doesn't matter to you, I'd prefer the left,” Oliver shrugged, folding over the bed’s top covers. “It’ll be easier for me to relax if I'm between you and the door.”

“I… I don't mind,” Felicity whispered.

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her, standing back and motioning at the mattress. “Then get in and slide over.” Swallowing, Felicity did as he requested, shuffling over to the right side before settling down. Oliver slid under the sheets behind her with a groan of satisfaction. “You know, I think this might be the most comfortable bed in the house.”

“Are you going to sleep with me?” Felicity blurted out.

Oliver chuckled and gathered her against his chest in his arms securely. “I thought I might,” he murmured. “I won't actually sleep, though. Vampires rest, but don’t sleep much.”

Snuggling up against him, Felicity trailed her fingertips over his heart before placing her palm on top of his cool skin. “What will you do then?”

“Cuddle you, of course,” he smiled brightly. “And when I get tired of doing that - _if_ I get tired of doing that -” He dropped gentle, chaste kisses on each of Felicity’s eyelids, stroking down the sides of her face with his thumbs. “I'll read and do some work. Will the candles bother you if I light them?”

“No, I'm a very deep sleeper. Nothing wakes me up.”

“Well… I like a challenge,” Oliver said, his voice both soft and teasing. “If I get bored, I'll figure out something that will wake you up.”

The implication that this _something_ was going to blow her mind - mentally and physically - caused the witch to release a shuddering breath. Felicity reached up and threaded her fingers gently through the hair at the base of his skull, caressing the back of his neck. “Do you bore easily?”

He gave her a wicked smirk. “I guess you'll have to wait and see, _mon coeur_.”

He rolled over and to Felicity’s astonishment, slipped his knee between her thighs so she was straddling his leg on her side, and crushed her even tighter to his chest. His arms were cool and soothing, and the feeling of safety in his embrace was completely relaxing.

“I hope this never stops,” Felicity said breathlessly. 

“You hope what never stops?”

Felicity arched her neck so she could kiss him, savoring the freezing feeling of his lips and the ice rushing through her veins, chasing the heat emanating from her heart and abdomen. “The feeling I get when I’m with you that I’m fully alive and whole for the first time in my life.”

Oliver’s confused face broke out into a stunning smile, his expression uncharacteristically shy. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She peppered his face with kisses, dropping her lips sweetly to his forehead, cheeks, eyelids, chin and finally his mouth. “I love you so much.”

Sighing with contentment, Felicity rested her head onto the vampire’s chest and fell into a dreamless sleep, filled with light and happiness and Oliver.


	30. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back, at least for the next two weeks. I passed all my university exams for the year (yay!) but I'm still, unfortunately, super busy. I'm writing and competing a full ten part multichapter fic called 'little wonders (twists and turns of fate) which I'll be starting to post on 1st July, and I'm one of the hostees of the Olicity Summer Sizzle event.
> 
> I'll be updating with this chapter and Chapter 30 next Sunday, but then will be updating kind of sporadically throughout the summer :/ Sorry guys. I really appreciate your patience and support. Keep an eye on my Twitter for updates.
> 
> Additionally - I just wanted to thank all of you for your amazing comments. I know I haven't responded to them for the last couple of chapters (due to lack of time) but I seriously love them. I'm always incredibly encouraged by your comments and kudos. Thank you xxx
> 
> Chapter warning: contains discussion of hunting animals and the beginnings of a scene in which it occurs.

Felicity was woken up gasping the next morning by Oliver kissing his way down her face to her collarbones, his cold lips sending waves of frost through her body and instantly alerting her to his presence.

“Good morning,” Oliver growled.

“‘Morning,” Felicity breathed, arching her neck to expose her throat. Oliver continued to press kisses, a deep purr rumbling from his chest. “So this is what you figured would wake me up?”

“Yes. It worked.”

“Yeah it did.”

Oliver leaned up on his elbow to kiss her mouth, flicking his tongue over her lips. Felicity chased him by scrambling up and grasping the vampire’s shoulder when he backed off. Remaining poised over her on his hands and knees, Oliver gazed down at her with dark eyes. “God, your hormones,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “Your responsiveness might kill me, Felicity.”

Felicity quirked an eyebrow. She would have preferred him to be less clothed - he must have got up earlier to change into jeans and a Henley, which were really getting in the way - but she could make do. Very quickly, she hooked her legs around Oliver’s waist and with a swift shove on his shoulder, had him down on the bed beneath her as she straddled his hips. She knew that the vampire had allowed her to maneuver him as his strength was so much greater than hers, but it gave her immense satisfaction to see the surprise on his face.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, rubbing his thumbs over her hipbones.

“Taking charge,” she said smartly. Leaning down, she kissed him again. Oliver’s response was gratifyingly immediate and enthusiastic.

She didn’t just mean that she was going to take charge of their morning kisses in bed. So far, since Oliver had stepped into her life, the vampire had orchestrated most of their days together, keeping Felicity safe and happy, and making sure nothing upset his careful arrangements. But today, Felicity was going to take charge. She’d made her decision of what she wanted to do today already, and it would involve Oliver letting her into his life as a vampire - unfortunately, her decision was bound to frustrate and terrify him.

Sitting on top of Oliver, Felicity noticed he wasn’t wearing his ampulla from Bethany anymore. “Where did your pilgrim's badge go?” she asked casually.

“I don't need it anymore,” he said.

Felicity huffed. She’d provided him with the perfect opportunity for him to finally tell her about the Knights of Lazarus by explaining its meaning, but he hadn’t taken it. Oliver must have sensed her unease and irritation, because he attempted to distract her by winding a lock of her hair around his finger and then pulling it to the side so the vampire could kiss the sensitive flesh behind the witch’s ear.

“Why?” Felicity murmured.

“I’ll tell you later,” Oliver said, lips drifting back down to her neck.

The heat spreading through Felicity’s body foiled any further attempts at rational conversation. They were still in bed together when Raisa entered the room, dropping a breakfast tray on the table and starting up a fire in the fireplace. Oliver clambered out from under the sheets to stretch and pour Felicity a cup of coffee. He paused and peered out of the window for a moment; the vampire proclaimed cheerfully that it was a perfect morning, and then declared that Felicity was ravenous before bringing her caffeine over.

While Felicity tug into a hot plate of scrambled eggs on fresh toast, instead of quietly watching the witch eat, Oliver complained that he was bored. He did it with a wicked gleam in his eyes, sitting across from her and sipped at a glass of wine as he twirled the stem between his fingers restlessly.

“We'll go riding after I’ve finished eating,” Felicity promised, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “That will fix your boredom. The _Aurora_ can wait until later.”

Oliver trailed his fingers over the tabletop to cover her hand with his own. “Riding won't fix it.”

Apparently kissing was the solution to his tedium. When Oliver finally conceded it was time for them to go riding, Felicity’s lips felt thoroughly bruised and she was almost giddy from the warmth spreading through her veins.

The vampire left her to shower and get changed, heading downstairs to his study to wait for her. Raisa came up to retrieve the breakfast tray as Felicity was drying her hair with a towel. When the female vampire asked what they were going to be up to, the witch decided she couldn’t lie, so told her what her plan was. Their riding trip wasn’t going to be a simple riding trip. Raisa’s eyes widened in astonishment at the important part, but to Felicity’s surprise, she didn’t try and dissuade the witch. Instead, Raisa agreed to pack her some lunch and drinks for a saddlebag.

There was really nothing left to do but inform Oliver.

Felicity found Oliver lying supine on the couch thumbing through the messages on his phone when she joined him in the study. “There you are,” he said, with a bright smile. “I thought I was going to have to follow you into the bathroom to fish you out of the water.”

The witch smiled back at him, but it was half-hearted and weak, as she knew what she was about to say would wipe the grin clean off his face. Oliver must have sensed some change in her scent, because he vaulted off the couch and sidled up to her. Placing his hands on her waist, the vampire’s eyes flicked over her face. Felicity raised her arms to wrap them around his neck.

“Kiss me?” he requested softly.

Felicity nodded, complying without a second thought, amazed at the pure sense of comfort between them. Loving Oliver was so easy. “I love you,” she whispered. “I feel like I've loved you forever.”

Cacao, sea breeze and cedarwood washed over Felicity as she leaned in, smoothing Oliver’s hair along the curve of his skull. The vampire purred. He truly was like a giant big cat being stroked.

“You like that?” she murmured.

“It feels wonderful,” he responded quietly.

Felicity couldn’t help but feel back, considering she was about to ruin his day. Hugging him, the witch brushed her lips to his ear and whispered, “Oliver… I want you to take me hunting.”

Oliver instantly stiffened, every muscle tensing up. “That's really not funny, Felicity,” he said icily.

“I'm not trying to be funny.” She shook her head when the vampire tried to shrug her off angrily. “We need to do this, Oliver. You need to know that you can trust me.”

He squirmed in her grasp and then shoved her, gentle enough that the witch wasn’t hurt, but hard enough to push her away. Storming away, one of Oliver’s hands strayed to the spot where his ampulla used to rest. Felicity winced; that was not a good sign.

“Vampires do not take warmbloods hunting, Felicity,” he hissed.

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. He couldn’t see the movement, though, as he had his back to her. “Don’t lie to me, please,” she said softly. “You hunt with Diggle up in Scotland.”

“That's different,” the vampire protested. He thumped his fist down on his desk with such ferocity that it made Felicity jump. “I've known John for years, and I don't share a bed with him.”

The witch walked toward him, slowly. As if she was approaching a startled animal. “If John Diggle can hunt with you, so can I.”

“NO. You don’t know what it’s like, Felicity. It’s too dangerous.”

“I do know what it’s like.”

“There’s absolutely no possibility that you do.”

“Moira took me hunting with her."

The silence in the room was frigid and deafening. Oliver drew in a sudden ragged breath, his shoulders trembling. He was angry. Incredibly angry. Felicity could sense the waves of rage rushing off of him and she would have been scared if she didn’t trust him implicitly. The vampire remained completely still as the witch carefully took another step toward him.

“Don't,” he snarled, his eyes dark and wild. “Stay away. I - I don't want you near me when I'm like this.”

Reminding herself that Oliver wasn't the one in charge today, Felicity took her next steps at a much faster pace until she stood directly behind him. That way he couldn't ignore her. He couldn’t avoid her scent or her heart. Despite her trepidation, her heart rate was measured and steady.

“I didn't mean to make you angry,” she said quietly.

“I'm not angry with you.” His voice was bitter. “My mother, however, has a lot to answer for. Taking you hunting is unforgivable.”

“Moira asked me if I needed to come back.”

He wheeled around, his eyes almost black. “You shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place. Vampires aren't in control when they're hunting. My mother certainly isn't to be trusted when she smells blood. For her, hunting is all about the kill and the feeding. She doesn’t care where she gets her blood from. If the wind had caught your scent and blown it back towards her, she would have fed on you too, without a second thought or hint of remorse.”

“Your mother was only protecting you. She was concerned that I didn't understand the stakes.” When Oliver simply growled and grumbled under his breath, Felicity sighed. Speaking in chess terms, it was time to check the king. “Oliver, you would have done the same for Connor.”

Once again, the silence was deep and long.

“She had no right to tell you about Connor. He was my son, not hers,” he said. Oliver's voice was tender, but filled with more venom than she’d ever heard in it. His eyes flickered to the shelf that held the wooden toy he’d carved for his son centuries ago.

“He belonged to you and to Sandra," Felicity replied, her voice equally soft. She crossed the small distance that separated them until she was standing no more than an inch from him. Gripping his arms, the witch continued, “Moira told me other things about your life as well. We talked about your childhood and how she made you into a vampire. Then she told me about your father.”

Oliver met Felicity’s gaze with difficulty, his eyes full of agony and a vulnerability that he'd carefully hidden before now. The witch’s heart broke at the idea of causing him any sort of pain. “I can't risk your life by taking you hunting, Felicity,” he murmured. “I want you so badly, more than I’ve ever wanted anybody else in my life. I want you physically, I want you emotionally. But if my focus shifts for an instant while we're out hunting, I could confuse my prey’s scent with yours. My instinct to stalk an animal could cross with my desire to have you.”

“You already have me,” Felicity whispered, stroking his face. “You don’t need to hunt me. I'm yours.”

“It doesn't work that way. I'll never have you completely. I'll always want more than you can give.”

“You didn't in bed this morning.” Felicity’s cheeks immediately reddened. She hadn’t really wanted to talk to him about this, but it was becoming rather obvious to the witch that Oliver could scent her arousal and was doing nothing about it. “I was more than willing to give myself to you and I think I’ve been clear with that. But you didn’t seem to care.”

“I don’t want us to go too fast.”

“Is that how you hunt, too? Seduction, delay, then strike when the time is most convenient for you?” Judging by the way Oliver shuddered, she’d struck the nail on the head. “Show me,” she insisted.

“No, Felicity,” he growled.

The witch stood her ground. The sound was a warning, not a threat. “I know you're frightened, Oliver. So am I.” Regret flickered in his gaze. Felicity rolled her eyes. “For the last time, I am not frightened of you. It's my own magical power that scares me. You didn't see the witchwater, Oliver. _That_ terrified me. You're not the only dangerous creature in this room, but we have to learn how to be with each other in spite of who we are. What we feel for each other is not, and cannot, be wrong.” She laced their fingers together, the shock of his cold skin against hers causing a coil of heat to build up in her abdomen. “You have to know that you can trust me like I can trust you.”

It took a while for Oliver to think this over. “I'll take you hunting with me,” the vampire said at last, “But only if you swear you won't come near me, and won't get down from Sahim's back. If you get so much as a hint that I'm looking at you or even thinking about you, turn around and ride straight home to Raisa and my mother. Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

He narrowed his eyes, sniffing cautiously. He was trying to tell by her scent whether or not she was lying. But eventually, he must have determined that she was being truthful, because now the decision had been made, he stalked past her down the tower steps. Felicity hurried after him, huffing. Although Oliver waited patiently for her each time he realized that she was lagging behind, he did seem to be incredibly restless. 

Moira was sitting in the salon and rose to her feet with a frown as the two of them passed the open door. Felicity tried to duck into the room to talk to her, but Oliver gripped her elbow and steered her away downstairs towards the kitchens and pantries. His mother was only a couple of steps behind by the time they reached the kitchens, where Raisa had a packed lunch for Felicity’s saddlebag ready. Raisa eyed Oliver and Felicity as if she was watching the latest soap opera romantic drama. Both of the vampires didn’t need to be told that something was wrong; Oliver’s attitude and tense body language made that obvious.

“We’re going out riding. I don't know when we'll be back,” Oliver said stiffly, swiping up a bottle of water while Felicity grabbed her lunch and a separate bag full of apples for the horses.

“Riding?” Moira echoed softly, a question in her voice.

“Hunting,” Felicity elaborated.

Moira shot Raisa an astonished but impressed look. Raisa just shrugged at her - she already knew about the witch’s plan of course. “ _Elle a plus de courage que j'ai pensé_ ,” Moira murmured.

Oliver whipped around, his lip curled in an unpleasant snarl. “Yes, Mother, Felicity has much more courage than either of us deserve. And if you _ever_ test that again, it will be the last time you see either of us. Understood?”

Moira inclined her head respectfully. “Of course, Oliver.” That seemed to be her favorite non-committal response.

They headed out to the stables together, but Oliver didn't speak to Felicity at all on the way down to the paddock. The dogs, who were resting on top of a hay bale, seemed to sense the vampire’s foul mood, as they hastily slunk away with their tails between their legs. Several times, Oliver froze in place, looking as if he were going to turn around and march the witch straight back to the château. At Sahim’s stable door, the vampire gripped Felicity’s shoulders and twirled her around to face him. Oliver searched her face and body for any signs of fear.

Felicity raised her chin as she clicked a lead rope onto Sahim’s halter, leading the handsome stallion out of his stable to tie him to the fence. “Will you be riding Constantine or Sayad?”

Oliver made a sound of exasperation and grabbed a lead rope of his own, deciding to bring out Constantine. The huge stallion bellowed and stomped his hooves, skitterish as the vampire tied him next to Sahim. The two horses were nervous, as if they could sense impending danger. Oliver’s body language was scaring them. Felicity fed the horses their apples while Oliver quickly tacked them both up, his hands a blur as he tightened their girth straps. Sticking her lunch and the rest of the apples in her saddlebag, Felicity turned and jolted on the spot when she found the vampire holding out her boots, helmet, and vest. Oliver watched on carefully as the witch pulled on her boots, did up the vest's fastenings and snapped the chin strap on the helmet.

“Take this,” he ordered. He was offering her a short black crop whip.

Felicity immediately shook her head, using a single finger to push it away. “I don't need it or want it, Oliver.”

His eyes blazed. “You _will_ take the crop, Felicity. And if you throw it away when we enter the forest, then we’re coming straight home.”

Oliver knew that she wasn’t going to use it on the horses - did he really think that Felicity would use the crop on him? Gritting her teeth, Felicity abided by his rules and shoved the whip down into her boot, the handle sticking out by her knee. As the witch placed her foot to swing up into Sahim’s saddle, Oliver approached from behind, took Felicity by the waist and tossed her up onto the horse’s back. His hands were firm but he refused to hold on a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t want any of her scent on him. Backing Sahim away from the fence and looping him around the stable yard, Felicity ran her fingers over the stallion’s neck and spoke to him softly in an effort to soothe him.

Oliver vaulted up onto Constantine and trotted him out into the field. Clucking Sahim into a canter, Felicity kept her horse behind Oliver so she could watch where he was leading her. It appeared they were headed out into the forest.

Once they were surrounded by trees, Oliver slowed Constantine down so he could make sure the crop was still in Felicity’s boot. “Your right stirrup needs shortening,” he pointed out.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it needs shortening,” he repeated, his voice insistent and stern. “I want you in racing trim.”

Felicity scowled but pulled Sahim off the track so that she could adjust her stirrup leathers. Oliver only wanted her tack in racing trim just in case she needed to make a run for it. They cantered out of the forest and instead rode alongside it, following the treeline until a now-familiar field opened up in front of them. Oliver sniffed the air. He grabbed Sahim's reins and brought Felicity to a halt.

His eyes were still dark, his body language rigid. “There's a rabbit over there.” Oliver nodded to the eastern section of the field.

“I did a rabbit with your mother,” Felicity told him, staring straight ahead over the long grass. “And a marmot, some foxes, a wild goat, and a doe.”

“ _Fuck._ I swear to god, when I see her again, I’ll -” His English dissolved into violent French, and he continued to list some rather creative threats and call his mother some names that made the witch hope desperately that they were out of the range of Moira's keen ears.

“Relax, Oliver,” she sighed. “Your mother wanted to cover every base so that eventually when this day came, I was prepared. We can cut to the chase.”

He looked frustrated. “Felicity, you need to understand, I don't hunt deer like Moira does, by scaring and chasing it to death before pouncing. I can kill a rabbit for you - I might even be able to kill a fox. But I refuse to stalk a deer while you're hunting with me.” Setting his jaw, he met her gaze with hard, cold eyes. “It would take hours and I don’t want you to see me when I’m like that.”

“I'm prepared for the wait.”

He shook his head determinedly. “No, not with you at my side.”

She stared at him, then asked abruptly, “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. I'm asking you to let me watch you feed yourself. If we remain in a relationship together, it’s something you’re going to have to do when I’m with you. If you really trusted me, you would share this basic survival need with me.” When Oliver growled under his breath at her, Felicity ran her fingers through her hair and continued, “Look, Oliver, you've shown me all the pleasant parts of being a vampire. You can taste and smell things I can't even imagine, you remember events and people that I can only read about in books, and you can somehow observe when I change my mind or want to kiss you. But if we are going to be partners, I need to know the bad parts as well as the good. If you can't bear this then we can make the Congregation happy and call this -” She motioned between them. “- off.”

There was a beat of silence. Quirking his eyebrows, Oliver aimed a bitter smile at her. “You’re never going to stop surprising me, are you?”

“Nope,” Felicity smirked. “So are we doing this, or not?”

Oliver didn’t respond, but that was only due to the fact that his head lifted and whipped around so he could focus on something in the distance. Felicity followed his eye line. The vampire’s attention was caught by a strong, young buck grazing on grass at the top of a hill. The breeze was blowing down towards them, so the stag hadn’t noticed their presence yet. 

Breathing out in relief, Felicity relaxed in the saddle; Oliver’s eyes were locked on his prey now and he was concentrating entirely on the hunt. Any anger or irritation from before had faded away to make room for his preternatural awareness of the surrounding environment. Felicity watched him carefully, trying to catch some slight changes in his behavior to indicate what he was thinking or feeling, but he’d gone completely still.

After five minutes of silence had passed, the witch sensed Sahim tensing beneath her, about to fidget on his hooves. _Don’t move_ , she warned him. _It would be dangerous now._ The stallion stilled, obeying her command.

The wind current changed, and just as Felicity noticed it, Oliver reached out to grab Sahim’s reins. He slowly guided Felicity and the horse along the treeline, making sure that they stayed within the path of the downward breeze. As they moved through the grass, the buck raised his head lazily and peered down the hill at them, but after apparently determining they weren’t any threat, he resumed his quiet clipping of the grass. Felicity actually felt bad for the creature; it truly had no idea it was being hunted by a ruthless killer.

Every couple of minutes, Oliver inched the horses forward, toward the trees. It didn’t take Felicity long to work out that he was attempting to camouflage her scent by placing her in the midst of the other forest animals that didn’t have his attention. It took them almost thirty minutes to make their way from the bottom of the field around the forest's edge to the bottom of the hill. Once they were hidden in the brush, Oliver dismounted Constantine and smacked him on the rump, so he turned around and galloped away home. The buck didn’t care.

“Stay here,” he whispered, a deep rumble being emitted from his chest. He led them further into the thicket and only handed back Sahim’s reins once she nodded.

The vampire crouched suddenly and with a faint snarl, started to prowl forward.

The hunt had begun.


	31. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said in the previous chapter, don't really know when i'm going to be updating again due to being busy hosting the olicity summer sizzle and posting my new fic 'little wonders', which starts posting tomorrow. thank you all so much for your support and patience xxx
> 
> **trigger warning** : this chapter contains the hunting and killing of an animal using graphic language. please DO NOT READ this if you are going to feel uncomfortable. i may be the writer of this fic, but you are responsible for your own reading experience. if you KNOW this is not something you would like to read, do not read it. i'm not going to take personal responsibility if you get upset, sorry.

Oliver managed to hold himself in a stalking position that would have been excruciating to a human after about five minutes, for nearly two whole hours.

Felicity had to keep flexing her ankles in the stirrups because they were falling asleep. She was intent on staying focused through this hunt, but it was becoming difficult. She’d thought the hunt with Moira had been long… this was so much longer.

It was easy now to see the difference between Oliver’s way of hunting and his mother's. When Moira hunted, it was because she simply needed blood that the animals had. She killed them to fill a primarily biological need. She didn’t feel any remorse that her survival required the death of another creature. For Oliver, her son, however, hunting was clearly much more complicated. He needed blood as well, but Oliver felt a kinship with his prey. He respected the creatures that he had to kill to feed from and that was reflected in his stalking methods. For him, hunting was about strategy and feral intelligence, not just the chase and slaughter.

It made Felicity feel better and worse about this situation, both at the same time. She couldn’t help but remember their play in bed that morning. The look of desire in Oliver’s eyes as he’d kissed her matched the hunger in his gaze now, as he focused on the deer. Felicity still wanted him as badly here in the forest when he was about to kill something as she had that morning, but she was beginning to understand what concerned Oliver about hunting with her. Survival and sexuality were intimately connected.

The vampire exhaled softly and prowled up the ridge without warning. The stag startled to attention, curious to see what this strange creature was approaching him. It took the buck only a couple of seconds to realize that Oliver was a threat, which was longer than it would have taken Felicity. The deer bolted, leaping down the hillside in an attempt to escape his hunter. The vampire was far faster, however, and he quickly chased it up the ridge. Every direction the stag turned, Oliver was there in front of it before it could make a move.

Realizing that it was trapped, the deer stumbled over a hole in the ground and came to a stop, sides heaving with exertion. The animal pawed at the ground anxiously with one of his hooves as Oliver slowly approached. Felicity could see from the tension in his shoulders that he was preparing to make the killing strike.

Felicity resisted the urge to shudder, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She felt the same sharp pull of concern for this stag that she’d had for Moira's deer. She pushed out waves of calming aura towards the buck, hoping to comfort it in its last moments of life. It must have worked, because the deer startled and turned its head towards her, as if listening out for her. Sending out another ripple of contentment, the witch forced herself to watch as the deer finally stopped moving completely and faced the predator in front of it square on.

It all happened too fast for the naked eye to view. In a blur, Oliver’s hand snapped out and grabbed the deer's horns, twisting his head so that the stag fell onto his back. At first, the animal tried to kick his way free, but after Felicity shoved another wave of peace and serenity out, it quietened. This move of surrender and permission had obviously been what the vampire was waiting for, because in less than a second, Oliver sank to his knees and finished the job.

The clean tangy scent of iron filled the air as Oliver fed, although no drops of blood fell from what Felicity could see. After he’d finished feeding, Oliver remained still, kneeling silently next to the carcass with his head bowed.

It was done.

Exhaling shakily, Felicity kicked Sahim into a walk and then a trot, riding up the hill until she was next to the vampire. Oliver stiffened as she came forward, his eyes bright with satisfaction but also hesitation as he peered up at her. The danger that he might mistake her for an animal to hunt had passed now, so Felicity withdrew the riding crop he’d given her out of her boot and chucked it as far as she possibly could into the bushes. Oliver’s gaze followed the crop, but his expression was unreadable.

“So?” His voice was deep but smooth - calculating in its tone. He was waiting for her judgment.

“I think I prefer the way you hunt,” Felicity said, taking off her helmet and dismounting. “It’s much better than Moira’s methods. I think the deer like it better as well. Less scary for them.”

Oliver flinched ever so slightly when she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder and knelt beside him. “What do you mean?” he asked. There was a strange shift to his voice that made it more fluid and deep.

“She hunts out of a biological need to survive, so she doesn’t care about the feelings of her prey,” Felicity answered. “You hunt because it makes you feel alive, and you respect the animals giving you your nourishment.” She motioned to the dead stag. “I think you two reached an agreement. He was at peace in the end.”

Oliver stared at her intently, his eyes narrowing. “Were you communicating with this deer as you talk to Constantine and Sahim?”

“I didn't interfere, if that's what you're worried about.” Felicity shook her head. “The kill was yours.” Maybe things like that mattered to vampires?

Oliver shuddered. “I don't keep score of that sort of thing, Felicity.”

Forcing himself to look away from the dead stag, the vampire rose lithely to his feet, offering her his hand gingerly, as if he didn’t expect her to take it. “Come on. You’re getting cold kneeling on the ground. We’ll walk down to the woods, away from here. I won’t be able to concentrate when the smell of blood is on the breeze.”

Nodding, Felicity refused to release his hand, whistling for Sahim, who was happily munching on the grass, unconcerned by the dead animal, to follow them as they descended the hill together, heading for the forest. As they strolled hand in hand, the witch wondered briefly who would get rid of the stag's carcass. There weren’t dead deer lying about the grounds of Sept Tours, so they had to collect and dispose of the bodies somehow. She thought that Raisa would have to be involved.

Despite having watched Oliver kill and feed on a deer, Felicity felt the opposite of how she’d felt when she’d hunted with Moira. With Moira, she’d felt sick and shaken afterward, and as if she couldn’t bear to eat again. Today with Oliver, however, she was ravenous. Perhaps it was because she felt much more comfortable and confident, considering she had experience in this area of a vampire’s life now.

Still, she wanted to check with Oliver if it would be okay for her to eat first. She wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. “Will you be okay if I eat?" she asked hesitantly.

Oliver shot her an amused look. “Of course. Given what you've seen me do today, the least I can do is watch you have a sandwich or two. After all, you’re probably going to insist that there’s no difference in you watching me eat, and me watching you.”

“There isn’t a difference!”

“There really is, but it’s sweet of you to pretend there isn’t,” Oliver smiled wryly.

“I’m not going to judge you for feeding yourself, Oliver.”

Felicity stopped for a second to take the lunch Raisa had prepared her out of Sahim's saddlebag. They continued to walk as the witch polished off the cheese and wild rocket sandwiches. She noticed as she ate that Oliver was watching her like a hawk, his eyes flickering when she finally finished and brushed crumbs from her hands and clothes.

Once they reached the treeline, they slowed their walking pace so they could converse, talking about a range of things. At first, Felicity attempted to get a little more information about Oliver about his trip to Oxford, but after he shut her line of questioning down quite abruptly, she turned the subject over to the horses and dogs, asking about how the vampire had acquired and trained them. Oliver was only too happy to talk about that. They ended up diverging to discuss his family, as it was Robert who had taught Oliver how to lunge a stallion and teach a hunting hound how to track scents.

“Do you mind?” Oliver asked abruptly, his voice hesitant.

Felicity tilted her head, confused. “Mind what?” If they were back to talking about the deer and hunting, she’d already told him she was all right with all of that. 

The vampire disentangled their hands. “Sandra and Connor. That I was married and had a son once.”

Returning her gaze to the trail, Felicity frowned slightly, running it over it her head. She wasn’t afraid to admit that she felt a little jealous of Sandra, but there was no point trying to explain that when Oliver wouldn't understand how or why. It would be too difficult to put into words. Shaking herself, Felicity gathered her thoughts and emotions, attempting to sort them out into a statement that was both true and would make sense to him.

“I don't mind that you’ve shared moments of love and affection with other creatures, living and dead, in your past,” she told him slowly. “But only so long as you want to be with me, right at this moment. The here and now is all that matters. Nobody who’s lived as long as you have comes without a history, Oliver. I know that you weren't a monk. I know you must have loved and lusted before, and I don't expect you to have no regrets about who you've lost along the way. So no, I don’t mind about Sandra and Connor. That may seem strange. But to know that despite everything you think about yourself - because I’m certain you think you’re not worthy of being cared about - you once loved and were loved enough to marry somebody and have a son with them… that makes me happy for you. Because you deserved that, and much more.”

Oliver emitted a rather desperate sound and drew Felicity to his chest, enveloping her in a hug. She sank into the embrace eagerly, resting her ear over his slowly beating heart and feeling relieved that the day's hunting trip hadn’t ended in a catastrophe. The vampire’s rage and fury had somewhat faded; there was still a lingering tension held in his shoulders, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm the two of them. Her reassurances had softened him, and the hard lines that had surrounded him while he was stalking were less severe now. He was opening himself back up to Felicity, showing his gentler, kinder side once again, instead of plastering on that warrior predator front.

Pulling back, Oliver cupped the witch’s face tenderly, tilted her chin up so they could meet each other’s eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he questioned in a whisper.

“Of course not. You don’t have to ask.” Felicity stood up on her tiptoes so that their heights were more equal, leaning in. Oliver appeared hesitant, so she rolled her eyes and reached up to entwine her fingers at the nape of his neck. “Don't be stupid, Oliver. I want you to kiss me.”

The vampire pressed his lips to hers firmly, but briefly. Felicity could taste the faint traces of blood in his mouth, and it was tangy and metallic, but not all that frightening, or even unpleasant. It was just Oliver, in his purest and wildest form. The exposure therapy to so much blood had pretty much wiped away any disgust or squeamishness Felicity might have felt before. Nickering, Sahim nudged at Felicity’s back, urging them to keep going. They continued walking down the path, although this time, Oliver kept his arm wrapped around Felicity’s shoulders, keeping her close.

“You do realize that we can’t have any children,” he said, his voice quiet and small. “Vampires can't father kids the... traditional way. Do you mind that?”

Children were not something Felicity had ever thought about before, because she hadn’t needed to. She was still young and focused more on her work than starting a family. But since Oliver had entered her life, she was coming to realize that there were things just as important to her as her studies, such as love, loyalty, and happiness.

“There's more than one way to have a child,” she told him with a shrug. “Moira made you. You belong to her just as much as Connor belonged to you and Sandra. And there are a lot of babies and kids in this world who don't have parents and need a loving family.” She frowned, lowering her gaze to the ground as she remembered the day when Quentin had told her that her parents were gone and never coming back. “We could adopt a whole coven of them, if we wanted to.”

“I haven't sired a vampire for years,” Oliver mused. “I could probably still manage it, I suppose, but a large family might be hard.”

Felicity’s lips ticked up into a smile. “It’s always just been Sara, Nyssa and I… Quentin, Sara’s father, as well, but not all that recently. Considering you, Raisa and Moira are part of my family now, it’s almost doubled in number.”

“You’ll need to add one more to your count.”

She shot him a look of surprise and suspicion. “There are more de Reines?”

“Oh, there are always more,” he replied dryly. “Vampire genealogies are always much more complicated than witch genealogies. You have to remember that we have blood relations on three sides, not just two. We have our birth parents and then our sires. But this is a member of the family that you've already met.”

Felicity thought over all the people she’d met connected to him since she’d met him, and after a moment, the image of the bouncy American vampire in Oliver’s labs emerged at the forefront of her mind. “Roy?”

Oliver nodded. “I made him, more than two centuries ago.”

“And you called him young, in vampire terms,” Felicity remembered. If two centuries was young, then anybody under fifty years of age must seem like an infant to Oliver.

“He’s… adolescent,” Oliver allowed. “I'm proud of him and what he's done with his life so far.”

“But you didn't want him taking my blood in the lab,” Felicity said with a slight frown. “ If he's your son, why didn’t you trust him with me?” She was pretty certain that parents - even vampire ones - were supposed to trust their children. Moira seemed to place trust in Oliver implicitly.

Oliver’s lips twitched into a small smirk as he ran his eyes up and down the witch almost possessively, making Felicity blush. “Well, he was made with my blood. If I find you so irresistible, why wouldn't he? No vampire is ever immune to the lure of blood, Felicity, and yours smells delicious. I might trust Roy with you more than I would a stranger, but I'll never be completely relaxed when any vampire is too close to you.”

Felicity was taken back. “Not even Raisa?” Raisa appeared relatively tame for a vampire; she was kind and gentle-hearted, and the witch found it hard to believe that even as a vampire, Raisa could hurt a fly.

“No, not even Raisa,” Oliver said firmly. “Although I guess I’m not particularly worried about her wanting to feed from you. You aren't really her type; she prefers blood from brawnier creatures.”

“Are you calling me weak?” she raised an eyebrow. For a fleeting second, Oliver looked panicked at the idea that he might have unintentionally offended her, but he breathed out in relief when Felicity laughed. “It’s okay, Oliver. I know what you meant. I’m a little undersized, I’m aware. You don't have to worry about Raisa, or Moira either.”

His expression turned serious. “You have to be careful around my mother,” Oliver warned. “My father told me it was dangerous to ever risk turning my back on her, and he was right. She's always been jealous of witches. Her intrigue is not born from idle curiosity and does not come from a good-hearted place. Given the ideal circumstances and the right mood...” He shook his head.

Felicity nodded in agreement. Moira’s temper was not one she wanted to flare up. “And then there's what happened to your dad.”

Oliver abruptly stopped walking, freezing on the spot. Not realizing straight away, Felicity took a couple of steps ahead, only pausing when she felt his hand drop from her shoulder. His face was drawn and pale, and he was staring at her intensely, as if searching for additional information, to find out what she knew. As if he was scared she might know too much.

Sighing, Felicity admitted, “I’ve been having visions, Oliver. I saw Moira tell you about the witches who captured your father. After everything that she’s suffered through because of my kind, she has no reason to trust me, but she’s let me stay in her house anyway. She’s no threat to me. The real threat here is the Congregation.” She hesitated before adding delicately, “There won’t be any danger from them if you turned me into a vampire.”

His face darkened, a storm brewing in his blue eyes. “My mother and I are going to have a long talk about appropriate topics of conversation,” he growled. “She shouldn’t be getting you involved in vampire affairs. You’ll get way in over your head and then end up in more trouble than you can safely get yourself out of.”

Irritation flickered in Felicity’s chest, creating a tightness. She strode forwards until she was toe to toe with Oliver and stabbed him in the sternum with her finger. “Hey, you can't keep me sheltered from the world of vampires anymore. It’s too late, I'm in it. I need to understand how it works and what the rules are if I’m going to cope on my own.”

“You won’t have to cope on your own. I’m going to be at your side the whole time.”

Oliver probably meant that to be reassuring, but it just made Felicity angrier, because now he really was implying that she needed him to protect her and couldn’t manage by herself. Her rage manifested as blue sparks leaping from her fingertips.

His eyes widening, the vampire took a wary step back to avoid being hit in the face by the mini fireworks. “Felicity…”

“Yeah, see? You aren't the only scary creature around, are you?” Felicity waved her fiery hands between them, wiggling her fingers until the vampire shook his head. Raising her voice so it came out strong and resolute, she continued, “So please stop being all heroic, and let me share your life. I don't want to be with some shining knight of armor, because I’m not a damsel. I want you to be yourself - Oliver Queen. Complete with your pointy vampire teeth and your terrifying mom, your test tubes of blood and DNA, your infuriating stubbornness, your incredibly attractive abs, and your stupidly sharp senses.”

The blue sparks stopped flying from her fingertips once she’d got all that out, her anger receding.

Oliver eyed her carefully. “If I come closer, are you going to turn into a live electrical wire again, or is that it for now?”

Felicity glanced down at her hands and shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I'm done for the time being.”

“Oh, you think?” His eyebrow arched.

“I'm perfectly under control,” she huffed. She definitely had more control now that she did back in Oxford, when she’d made that hole in his rug with her fireworks.

“So I can hug you?”

His tentativeness was touching. “Are you going to ask me for permission every time you want to hug or kiss me?”

“Just being a gentleman.” Oliver encased Felicity in his arms again, crushing her elbows into the ribs with the strength of his embrace.

“Too tight,” she complained.

He chuckled, kissing her thoroughly before placing his hand on the back of her head, encouraging her to rest her ear against his chest. Felicity waited patiently to hear his heart thump, and when it did so, closed her eyes and exhaled relaxedly. “You’re going to give me grey hairs - long thought impossible among vampires, by the way. With your courage, your magic, your tendency to get involved with mischief and attract trouble, and the impossible things you do and say.”

Before Felicity could speak, Oliver pressed his lips to hers again, sending cold tingles down the witch’s spine. When he was finished, she was too overwhelmed by a feeling of fullness in her heart to say anything, which the vampire appeared pleased by.

“You win, _belle_ ,” he smiled. “I’ll try not to cloak you in bubble wrap. But you must promise me that you won’t underestimate how dangerous vampires can be.”

It was difficult for Felicity to merge the words ‘danger’ and ‘vampire’ into the same thought when Oliver was embracing her. She reckoned that she could stay here hugging him all day, but grey clouds overhead threatened to rain down on them; it was time to head back to the château. Sahim, who had plodded a couple of feet away and was waiting indulgently, was munching on grass.

“Are you finished for today?” she asked Oliver.

The vampire snorted. “If you're asking if I need to hunt more, the answer is no. We should be getting back. My mother and Raisa will be concerned.”

“I don’t think Sahim will be able to carry both of us. He’s been eating grass all afternoon and he’s going to explode.”

“He’s carried much heavier loads before, he can easily carry the two of us. You barely weigh anything,” he teased her. He emphasized his point by taking her by the waist and lifting her into the saddle with little effort. His hands remained on her hips as he vaulted up alongside her, the saddle fortunately long enough for them both to sit in it snugly. Felicity’s breath caught in her throat when she felt his entire body pressing up against her back, and Oliver’s arms wind around her to grasp the stallion’s reins. “We won’t push him - we’ll walk him back. But if we travel on foot, it’ll be dark by the time we get back.”

“Fair enough,” Felicity murmured, as they kicked Sahim gently into motion.

She shivered as Oliver nuzzled at her ear, purring, “Can’t handle riding on the same horse as me, Dr Smoak?”

“I’d much rather be riding you,” is what Felicity blurted out in response, her brain-to-mouth filter momentarily failing. Oliver was so shocked that he pulled Sahim to a halt, the horse whinnied in protest, pawing at the dirt with his hoof. Her cheeks aflame, Felicity muttered, “Oh god. Um. Sorry. I… would say that I didn’t mean that but… some part of me did.”

“Well,” Oliver cleared his throat, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher. “That’s good to know. For the future.”

“Professor Queen, what are you implying?” Felicity fake gasped, her hand on her chest.

“Hey, you were the one who turned my innocent comment about riding into something dirty.”

She leaned back and turned her head so she could shoot him a joking, half-hearted glare. “Don’t throw on that wholesome, pure Catholic vampire act. You started this with your sexy purring.”

“You think my purring is sexy?” he laughed.

She did. But considering they were poking fun at each other, she teased, “Like a cat in heat.”

Oliver dazzled her with a winning smile, winking. “I’m biologically male so I don’t go into heat. I’m ready to go at any time.”

She whacked him as well as she possibly could considering she was astride a horse and he was so close to her. “Rascal.”

Dusk was setting over the fields when the two of them arrived at the château gates. The dogs rushed out to greet them, yipping excitedly, and guide them back to the stables. Above them, Sept-Tours was ablaze, the windows twinking with light and every lamp leading along the path up to the front doors illuminated, lengthening the evening’s shadows. The castle no longer intimidated Felicity, though. She’d found a strange sense of belonging within the stone walls with Oliver and his family - something she’d never really experienced before, even with Nyssa and Sara.

“Home,” she murmured, her heart lifting.

Oliver squeezed her from behind, propping his chin on her shoulder and grazing a kiss against her exposed neck. “Home,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! I would really appreciate it if you left kudos and left a comment!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexibackbriar


End file.
